


just once

by stilinskisparkles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard Derek, M/M, Prince Stiles, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskisparkles/pseuds/stilinskisparkles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m your bodyguard!”</p><p>“Yeah, I know, and I get that you’re worried I am somehow living under the illusion you are Kevin Costner and I’m Whitney Houston, but Derek?” Stiles grabs his tie before Derek can stop him, pulls him close enough to murmur in his ear, “I can’t sing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Stiles, come on, we’re going to be late!” Derek glances at his watch again, looks towards the open door of the palace where Erica is leaning against the frame looking bored. “At least _try_ and look like you’re a professional,” he hisses to her.

Erica rolls her eyes, but straightens up, sliding on her shades as she does, “You know he hates it when we stand on ceremony.”

“It’s not your job to pander to his every whim; it’s your job to protect him.”

“Hey!” Stiles appears from the front drawing room, dressed to the nines and adjusting his shirt cuffs. “I heard that, and it is an _absolute_ lie. You are _definitely_ here to pander to my every whim and desire.” He smirks as he gives Derek a once over (one that Derek refuses to let bother him), “And, you’re doing a fine job in that suit, I must say.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Get in the car.”

“Is that any way to talk to your prince regent? The national treasure?”

“ _Please_ , get in the car, your _highness_ ,” Derek adds, narrowing his eyes, “Better?”

“I can think of about fifty ways you could _make_ it better,” Stiles leers at him, “Maybe if you took off your—”

“Alright,” Derek interrupts, places a firm hand on Stiles’ back and tries not to forcibly push him out of the front door.

He should be used to Stiles’ easy flirtation, by now. He, Erica and Boyd were assigned to the prince when he turned eighteen, and needed adult security, rather than the early years specialists. Derek’s spent three years ignoring Stiles’ endless come ons, the terrible one liners he picks up from twitter or reddit and then practices with on Derek. Stiles doesn’t mean anything serious when he’s teasing Derek; he’s just the same with Erica (although, _never_ with Boyd—Stiles is always well behaved under Boyd’s watch—which Derek finds terribly unfair), and it’s all part of the façade he puts on. The forced bravado that comes from a twenty four hour spotlight on him, that undoubtedly stresses him out a great deal. He relieves the pressure with his teasing, the snark and banter he has with the company he must keep twenty four seven. Derek knows all of this, he knows Stiles is only joking, he just sometimes wishes, however, that Stiles wasn’t quite so damn… relentless with him. He wishes they didn’t share long looks that could (if he allowed them) lead him to distraction; wishes that the many nights he and Stiles stay up playing cards were without the constant crackle in his ear piece; that sometimes they’d met in another world where he was just a guy in bar, and Stiles was the kind of lightning he knew would only strike once, would only need once, that Derek would have been brave enough to ask out and not need a dozen other people watching them eat dinner.

But, it’s not to be, Stiles is King Stilinski’s only son, the heir to the throne of Derek’s country, and he’s smart as a whip, charming (when he’s in public at least), handsome, funny, and absolutely _adored_ by the people. He’s also been bored of the confinement royalty brings him since he was old enough to try and work out the best ways to bypass his security team. He’s a menace (Derek would never say aloud how much he enjoys the chase, how glad he is to work with someone that keeps him on his toes, how proud he is to always be the one that finds Stiles, that can read him like a book, that knows him better than anyone else).

When Marin handed off the detail to Derek she wished him luck, _and then some_. Derek had been too chuffed about having such an amazing, important job to realize she hadn’t been warning him about dangerous stalkers, or wannabe fans, but Stiles himself.

Derek has found Stiles shimmying down a drain pipe (he jumped a foot in the air when he landed and saw Derek waiting patiently for him on the ground); climbing out of a bathroom window; caught him trying to switch cars in a traffic jam (Derek would never admit it, but that one was absolute genius. Stiles had his best friend pull up in the lane beside them and actually made it into the second car before Derek joined him, buckled up and asked where they were going. Stiles had groaned and bashed his head into the seat in front); and he’s even gone as far as hiring a body double to try and trick the team in a club. Derek knew it wasn’t Stiles on the dancefloor; nobody was limping away in pain after having had their toes trodden on. He found Stiles at the back of the club trying to persuade a nervous drug dealer to sell him pot.

“I’m clean, I swear, I’m not a cop!”

“You’re trying to pay me with a ruby, dude.”

“I’m not allowed to carry money!”

The dealer had spotted Derek tearing towards them, and vanished into thin air, leaving a very cross Stiles and an infuriated Derek. They’d argued the entire way back to the palace, and Derek had frogmarched the prince up to his room and refused to leave. He’d slept with his back to the door and woken with a drawing of a dick on the side of his face. Stiles had declared it his own fault for having slept through it. Derek’s still a little suspicious about how Stiles pulled it off, he normally wakes at the slightest noise from him. The night terrors Stiles sometimes has are the worst, because Derek’s always there, seconds after they start, and Stiles is always glad, clings to him sometimes, and then he’s vicious the day after. He loathes anyone seeing him vulnerable, hates having bodyguards hanging around him all day, and Derek takes the brunt of it, especially now that Stiles is twenty one. He considers himself able to handle the world.

Derek doesn’t think Stiles has _any_ idea how the world would treat him if they could get their hands on him; not that Derek would ever let them.

Underneath their bickering, and their endless clashes over what Stiles calls his _deserved liberty_ , and Derek calls _dangers to his life_ , there’s a great deal of fondness. Derek knows even if they were just friends that knew each other in another life, he’d take a bullet for Stiles. He knows that the way he feels for Stiles is already dangerous, but he can’t let it overtake his number one priority; he has to put Stiles’ security first. And, so they argue; they fight over where Stiles can go, when he can go there, who he goes with. Stiles rolls his eyes every time his friends are searched before they come into the palace; sarcastically offers drinks and food to Derek first before he has them in case Derek wants to check them first (Derek always hopes his eyebrows put across the mental middle finger he gives Stiles every time he does this, and by the shit eating grin Stiles always gets as he begins to eat, he knows exactly what Derek’s thinking); he makes crank calls to Derek’s cell from around the palace just to wind him up when they’re not together.

He drives Derek to distraction, and it’s the best job he’s ever had. He has to remind himself it is a job, sometimes, and that’s the most dangerous part of all, how easily he could forget himself with Stiles. Even if he wishes he could, just for the day, just once.

“Can’t you at least look a little untidy?” Stiles interrupts his moment of contemplation as they slide into the car, flicks at Derek’s tie. “You’re putting me to shame.”

“Heaven forbid,” Derek retorts drily.

“I’m the prince! I’m supposed to look the nicest!”

“Says who?”

“Says… all Disney movies ever!”

“None of those princes have any personality, who cares how tidy they look. You need personality to be a favorite, these days.”

Stiles arches an eyebrow at him, and Derek shifts uncomfortably, looks out of the window, “What.”

“Nothin’,” Stiles smirks at him again, “Just, you know, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to.”

“Na uh, you were saying I have _character_.”

“Fine,” Derek rolls his eyes, “Take it as a _meagre_ compliment.”

“I’m sure you’re not supposed to be so damn mean to me,” Stiles sniffs, but pulls out the pocketbook he keeps on him at times. “This one’s goin’ on the ledger, anyway.”

Derek reads over his shoulder as Stiles marks a notch on a page full of short, neat lines with diagonals through them.

“Do you seriously keep a tally of how many compliments you get from people?”

“Nope,” Stiles closes the book, grins at him, “Just the ones from you.”

“I’ve never given you _that_ many.”

“There’s a lot of different factors that go into it,” Stiles scratches at his nose, avoiding Derek’s gaze. “It’s very scientific, you wouldn’t follow.”

From the driver’s seat, Erica snorts pointedly, and then clears her throat, “Five minutes out,” she tells Derek.

Derek nods, glances at his watch again, “Good, we’re not too late.”

“I’d have thought—with your huge knowledge of Disney movies— you were aware of the quote from the Princess Diaries where a Queen is never late, she is always right on time,” Stiles waves his hand in the air with a flourish, wiggles his eyebrows at Derek.

Despite himself Derek laughs, rolls his eyes again, “You calling yourself the Queen?”

“Hell yeah! I think I’d look pretty fetching in a tiara,” Stiles’ face falls a little and he looks at his hands. “My mom’s was always beautiful. She used to let me put it on for her before big events.”

Derek pauses from adjusting his jacket, reaches over and touches Stiles’ wrist gently, “ _She_ was always beautiful.”

Stiles looks at him for a long moment, and then down at where Derek’s fingers are still resting on his arm. Derek draws his hand back slowly, gives him a soft smile. Stiles clears his throat, nods quickly and rubs at his eyes, “Yeah, yeah she was, thanks, man.” He barks out a laugh suddenly, shaking his head, “Jesus, I’ve got maudlin on us seconds before my own birthday bash.”

“At least we’re officially late, now,” Derek offers.

“You with the silver lining,” Stiles cocks a finger gun at him. “Can always rely on you for a cheery comment, glass half full, bright side of life, the wind beneath my—”

“Alright,” Derek cuts him off with a shove to his shoulder, and Stiles’ laugh is clearer, happier than it was a second ago. Derek ignores the _look_ Erica is giving him as he jumps out of the car, hurries around to Stiles’ side. He opens the door and the cheering crowds waiting for Stiles to climb out get twice as loud.

Stiles beams at them all, waving excitedly as he moves along the red carpet leading to the banquet hall.

“Did _you_ insist on the damn carpet?” he murmurs to Derek, knowing Derek is close enough to hear anything from him, the slightest hitch in breath, any hint of panic.

“Yep, told them you wanted the works,” he replies easily, eyes on the roof above them, flitting to the crowds and then briefly behind them.  “You _are_ a national treasure, after all.”

Stiles throws his head back laughing, elbows past Derek as he heads into the foyer to be greeted by his enthusiastic guests. Derek checks behind them and then follows him through. There’s people everywhere, rushing to shake hands with Stiles, taking his picture, shouting for him. Derek can see the strain in Stiles’ eyes, even as he pretends to smile, nodding along to the story someone’s telling him.

Derek hovers behind him, makes sure never to invade the personal space of the guests, but to always be near enough for Stiles to turn and see him, immediately.

Erica’s bitching in his earpiece about the other rude drivers in the parking lot; from across the room, Derek can see Boyd smirking at her rant.

“Hey, can we go to the bathroom?” Stiles winces—always pained at having to ask such mundane, ridiculous seeming questions—and Derek nods, tells Boyd to go ahead and scout it out.

“You think someone is waiting for me in the stall or something?”

“You never know.”

“What happened to the bright and cheery Derek from outside? I liked him.”

“I killed him,” Derek flashes him a dark grin; “I’m the evil twin.”

Stiles trips over his own feet laughing, rolls his eyes when Derek catches him easily. “What would I do without you?” he simpers.

“Crash and burn,” Derek retorts, nodding at Boyd as they arrive at the bathroom.

The room is bigger and fancier than Derek’s entire apartment, and he can’t help but cluck his tongue at the fabric on the walls.

Stiles snickers, juts his chin at it, “Not to your taste?”

“Why do the walls need curtains?”

“You could ask the designer; she’s here somewhere.” Stiles slips into one of the stalls (refuses to pee in front of any of them, even though Derek had originally insisted it wasn’t a problem, Stiles insists on maintaining some illusion of privacy, and Derek gets it, he really does. He refuses to get antsy for the thirty seconds he can’t see Stiles. They’re at the guy’s birthday party, there really won’t be anyone lurking here to hurt him, but Derek can never be too careful).

“You know her?”

“Nah,” Stiles shouts back to ensure Derek hears him over the door. “Her name’s Evelyn or something; friend of dad’s.”

“How lucky for her,” Derek muses, “Become a designer, befriend the king.”

“I think she’s rich,” Stiles reappears, moves to wash his hands. “Besides, my dad has normal friends. He still plays poker with Chris; goes hunting with Bobby.”

Derek shudders, remembering the last time they all went hunting and Bobby Finstock spent the afternoon waving his gun around to emphasise every point he made, and Derek itched to stand in front of Stiles, _just in case_.

“I have normal friends, too.”

“By calling them normal, are you finally admitting you’re not?”

Stiles grins, tosses a hand towel at Derek’s face.

“Asshole.”

“Part of the job requirement,” Derek replies smoothly, catching the towel and balling it up, shooting it into the laundry basket easily.

Stiles watches him with admiration, eyes lighting up as he grabs another towel, “Let’s stay in here all night and play HORSE with these!”

Derek laughs, shakes his head, “Your guests would notice.”

“Come on, dude,” Stiles pulls a face, twines his hands together and pouts at Derek. “I hate these things; I’d much rather have had Scott, Lydia and Allison over to play video games and eat pizza.”

“That does sound like a good party,” Derek muses.

“Yeah, and you could have had a night off, chilled with us! I might have even seen you,” Stiles clutches his chest in mock horror, “In sweat pants!”

Derek snorts, “What is your obsession with me and casual clothes.”

“You never wear them! Seriously, is your closet filled with lines of the same suit?”

“Of course not, this one is charcoal; I wore it especially for your birthday.”

Stiles smirks, lets his eyes trail over Derek again, “And, as I said before, I appreciate it.”

Derek rolls his eyes, tries to deflect from Stile’s intense gaze, “Lydia would have hated missing out on a party like this; she’s probably out there somewhere…”

“Was that a hint? Am I keeping you from seeing the lovely Lydia?” Stiles’ tone is teasing, but he suddenly looks a lot less sure of himself, squints up at Derek almost _nervously_.

“No, you’re hiding in the bathroom instead of going to find your friends and enjoying the ‘awesome, amazing’ chicken dippers you insisted on having, tonight.” Derek lifts his eyebrows pointedly, “You’re more than enough of a handful for me.”

“Well,” Stiles rocks back on his heels, beams at him, “Can’t say I’m too sad about that.”

“You don’t look sad at all.”

“I’m just happy I saw you do inverted commas with your fingers there for my chicken dippers. Which are, in fact, _awesome and amazing_.”

“I’m sure.”

“You gonna try them?”

“I don’t eat when I’m on the job.”

“You’re on the job twenty four seven,” Stiles takes a step closer, narrows his eyes at him. “Are you a cyborg?” He blows in Derek’s face, and Derek blinks in surprise, falls a step backwards.

“Stiles!”

“I was just checking you blinked!”

“Of course I blinked, dumbass.”

“You ticklish?” Stiles goes to poke him in the side and Derek catches his wrist, spins him around until he’s against the wall. There’s no force in the gesture, Stiles is leaning back against it, letting Derek manoeuvre him, and beaming about it.

“What have we discussed about you trying to… tickle me.”

“That I should persevere and one day I’ll succeed? Catch you out? Make you laugh?”

“You make me laugh, all the time, at you.”

“You’re the worst bodyguard ever.”

“I’m the best,” Derek steps away when he realises just how close they are, smooths down his tie. “And, my job is to keep you safe, not keep you amused.”

“Thank god you do both, if the latter is mostly by accident.” Stiles taps his chin, “I can’t decide if it was funnier watching you try and chase that pigeon away from me last week, or when you tripped over my lacrosse stick and tried to pretend you’d done it on purpose.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “I’m sure both were hilarious; but they have nothing on the time—”

There’s the clearing of a throat from the other side of the door, and then Boyd peeks his head through, “People are beginning to wonder if the prince is planning on occupying the bathroom with his bodyguard for the _entire night_.”

Stiles groans dramatically, “And, what if I were?”

Boyd smirks, and then clears his throat, “I’m really not in a position to judge, your highness, but I believe your friends would… talk.”

“They already think Derek and I—” Stiles stops himself, throws his head back and the thin gold circlet that he has to wear to formal events slips from his hair.

Derek launches forward, catches it easily.

“Thanks, dude,” Stiles ducks his head, gestures for Derek to put it back on for him, “Little help?”

Derek looks down at the gold metal between his fingers, swallows hard as he glances to the top of Stiles’ head. The gesture alone; Stiles’ bowed head, soft hair calling out to Derek to run his fingers through; the very idea of standing over Stiles and placing something that represents so much power, has such importance, back on Stiles’ head, has him panicked. He’s not good enough to even be touching the crown, let alone feel the way he does for Stiles, to yearn for him the way he does, to have Stiles’ trust in a moment like this.

“I don’t think I should—” he manages finally.

“Derek, for god’s sake, I promise I won’t tell anyone we re-enacted a coronation in here!”

“It’s not for me to—”

Stiles reaches out blindly and grabs Derek’s wrist, grapples with him for a moment before Derek scowls, shoves the crown back onto Stiles’ head.

“There, happy?”

“You trynna give me the gangster look with it all to the side like that?” Stiles laughs, readjusts it in the mirror as Derek resists sticking his tongue out at the _you are a moron_ look Boyd is shooting him.

“Let’s go,” he snaps, opens the door for the prince.

“You’re such a sensitive flower, tonight,” Stiles teases loftily, leading them into in the main ballroom and then freezing on the spot.

Across the high walls of the building are photographs of Stiles. Not just nice, regal poses, either; baby shots; cute, but (considering Stiles’ bright red cheeks) embarrassing toddler candids; awkward teenage pictures with Stiles standing alone instead of with his friends. To their credit, Stiles’ huddle of friends are rushing across the room to him, crying ahead that they had no idea.

It’s clearly the work of the party planner, thinking it was a nice idea to show how Stiles has grown into manhood, but it’s every young adult’s nightmare having their baby pictures on show in HD and blown up to the size of banners. Stiles is staring up at one picture of him at about fifteen, gangly and awkwardly wincing at the camera. There’s one further along that Derek recognises from Stiles’ eighteenth (in the picture he looks as surly as he can manage in public, glaring off camera, and Derek could swear it’s probably at him, Stiles took an immediate dislike to him) and it’s not a great photo. He gets the idea, sees the theme; Stiles finally reaching adulthood and celebrating his journey, but anyone would be mortified to have just one baby snap up on a wall, let alone two dozen.

“Dude!” Scott rushes to Stiles’ side, corrects himself as he spots Derek’s frown. “I mean your highness.”

“Don’t even,” Stiles cuts in, cringing as he continues to stare at the wall, “Who the hell thought of this one?”

“I think it’s sweet,” Allison tries, resting a hand on Stiles’ arm and leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re adorable.”

“I’m five and naked in a paddling pool, Allison! In front of this entire party.”

“It could be worse,” Derek murmurs in his ear, “Someone could have taken pictures of you sitting playing COD in your underwear last week.”

“Now, that I would have preferred,” Stiles insists hotly, “I’d have at least been in my own environment, then!”

“Instead, you’re making Jackson’s old paddling pool the place to have been sixteen years ago,” Lydia teases, winking at her fiancé.

Jackson lets out a pained sigh, “Yeah, sure, you did me a solid.”

“People only ever came to your parties because I was there,” Stiles preens, making an attempt to move the subject away from the pictures as he snarks at Jackson.

“Well, I only come to _your_ parties because Lydia makes me,” Jackson retorts.

Lydia stamps on his foot, “He’s just kidding, _your highness_.”

Stiles scrunches his nose up at her, “Don’t call me that, and Jackson… d’you know I can still have you beheaded if I don’t like you.”

Derek snorts, resumes his spot just behind Stiles and the prince and his friends catch up. They move towards the bar area, where Stiles legally (finally! He declares) orders a whiskey sour. Derek watches him grimaces as he sips at it, tries not to show his amusement when Stiles abandons it behind a potted plant and gets himself a beer, instead.

The food is served, and Stiles eats with gusto, laughing along with Scott and Allison; to the outside viewers he’d look nothing but happy and at ease—but Derek can see his gaze flickering towards the pictures all evening. He also notices the longing in Stiles’ eyes as he watches Allison and Scott’s interactions, the loving touches and the gentle bends of the head to catch one another’s words. He doesn’t really give the same looks towards Jackson and Lydia, but that’s mostly because Jackson and Lydia are both much less open with their affection. At one point, however, Derek notices Jackson’s thumb stroking gently against the back of Lydia’s neck, sees Stiles watching the gesture with a wistful express, and feels a pang of regret on Stiles’ behalf.

Although he’s never given more than a few hints about the desire to settle down, Derek knows it weighs on Stiles’ mind. He’s likely to be married to someone sensible, perhaps someone high up in politics, or from a neighboring country. Stiles has always been polite to foreign dignitaries, always done his duty escorting pretty young ladies around the town, dancing with them at balls, but in private he’s often expressed regret at not having more of a say on the matter himself.

Derek has never dared share his own opinions on the subject; which is that he knows Stiles would never be happy with someone he _had_ to marry. He’d try, for his father and his country, but he so already hates choice being taken from him, to spend the rest of his life with someone he didn’t love, hadn’t chosen himself, must be something that worries him. Not that Derek himself worries about it; Stiles is his client, and only his client. Derek shouldn’t have any opinions on who or when Stiles will marry. Stiles is only his to protect.

“Can we go outside?” Stiles has come over from the edge of the dancefloor, waves an arm at where his friends are dancing. “It’s getting a little too couple-y for me.”

“Of course,” Derek agrees smoothly, follows Stiles out through the open French doors and onto a lovely patio. There are sweeping gardens leading down to a lake, and Derek takes a moment to appreciate seeing this side of his country—the beautiful, extremely wealthy side—before his eyes fall back to where Stiles has settled in on a bench, overlooking the gardens.

“I didn’t want to look like a sour lemon just standing next to them all while they slow danced,” Stiles explains, not looking at Derek, but determinedly out at the gardens.

“I think you’re allowed to look however you want,” Derek murmurs, “It is your birthday, after all.”

“It’s just… they’re all settled, you know?”

Derek hums.

“And, I’m gonna be stuck being single for like… another twenty years before my dad insists I marry someone, and even then it won’t be for love.”

“You’re planning on being single for twenty years?” Derek tries not to sound too relieved by the idea.

Stiles scoffs, “I’m not dating someone just because they might bring better corn trades into the bargain.”

“Stiles… when was the last time the country needed better corn trades.”

“Shut up,” Stiles rolls his head back, quirks a smile at him, “You knew what I meant.”

“Sure,” Derek takes a step towards him, stands directly behind the bench, “You’re going to try and put your father off matchmaking for twenty years.”

“It’ll be more of a fun challenge for him when I’m forty; I’ll be the George Clooney of my time.”

“You don’t have the dashing good looks of George Clooney.”

“Lies.”

Stiles is silent for a moment, and then he sighs, rubs his face, “I just wish I could go out to a bar and pick up someone I actually liked, you know?”

“Yes,” Derek says quietly, “I get that.”

“I’d have definitely tried to hit on you.”

Derek snorts, “You try ridiculous pickup lines on me all the time.”

“Sure, but you might have taken me seriously, in another life.” Stiles stands, sticking his hands in his pockets as he does and gives Derek the same wistful smile he’d been wearing at dinner. “You might have even liked me back.”

“Stiles—” Derek falters, turns to glance over his shoulder where Boyd is looking fixedly across the grass. “I like you just fine, now, in this life,” he says finally.

“Just fine, eh?” Stiles ducks his head, cheeks going pink, “Well, I guess that can go in the ledger, too. Two in one day, lucky me.”

“You’re a prince,” Derek points out, “You’re already pretty lucky.”

“That is true,” Stiles looks at him with a strange expression in his eyes, “Can’t complain. Except maybe with the baby pictures,” he grimaces, looks down at the ground. “How does my dad think I’m ever supposed to attract someone when he lets a party planner put those stupid things up.”

“Everyone has embarrassing baby photographs, Stiles.”

“Oh yeah? And, tell me, Derek, did yours get put on display in front of two hundred super important people and your friends, all at once?”

Derek smirks, “No, but my sister put one of them on facebook the other day as a throwback Tuesday—”

“Throwback Thursday,” Stiles immediately corrects.

“—yeah, that. And, it was mortifying as hell.”

Stiles smiles wistfully again, “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen your facebook, let alone your baby pictures.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Is that because you’d only have me and Erica as your friends?”

“And Boyd.”

“Of course.”

Derek pulls out his phone, flicks through his apps to find the right one, scrolls down Laura’s facebook page, “Here.” He holds out the phone to Stiles.

“What, seriously?”

“You’ve got three seconds.”

Stiles grabs the phone quickly, peers down at the shot of Derek, Laura and Cora in their matching train sweaters. They’re in front of a Thomas the Tank Engine and all beaming toothily at the camera. Laura had captioned it, **_“The simpler days when your folks picked what u wore and u always looked boss #tbt”_** and it had taken Derek a google search to find out just what #tbt even meant.

“Dude,” Stiles laughs, thumb running along the screen softly, “How old are you here?”

“About five,” Derek takes the phone from him, scrolls back again to one Cora posted a few weeks earlier and hands it back to Stiles. “I’m about nine, there. We went as the ninja turtles to school for a dress up day, and…” he shrugs awkwardly, grins despite himself. “I cried and refused to go until Laura let me be Leonardo.”

“He had the katanas,” Stiles nods, wiggles his eyebrows at him, “He was definitely the most badass.”

“I, however, was not,” Derek points out, the picture showing him with his arms crossed and a blotchy face after having had a tantrum for over an hour before Laura gave up the purple bandana.

“You got to take swords to school?”

“No,” Derek snorts, “No way. I think my mom made cardboard ones.”

“That’s awesome,” Stiles hands him back the phone, his expression filled with a warmth that Derek can only hope is affection.

“Dude, thanks.”

Derek lifts an eyebrow, “For what?”

“For, you know,” Stiles gestures at where he’s popping the phone back in his pocket, “For sharing? I guess?”

“You guess?”

“No, I’m sure, _jerk_.”

Derek grins, “Just making sure.”

“See if I ever thank you for making me feel normal again.”

“Normal is overrated.”

“Says you, a normal person.”

Derek clutches at his chest, pretends to look wounded, “Ouch,” he deadpans.

Stiles rolls his eyes, still looking happier than he has all evening. Derek counts it as a win.

“Hey,” Stiles runs a hand through his hair, messing with the metal of his crown. “So, if the party’s winding down could we—”

“Stiles!” Scott comes running onto the patio, breathless and bright eyed. “You wanna come to the bar across the street? We were thinking you might be bored of the…” he waves a hand in the air with a flourish in a way so similar to Stiles, “Grandeur.”

“Dude, am I ever!” Stiles’ pensive expression vanishes and he claps his hands together, makes a pleading face at Derek. “Can we please go?”

Derek winces. Inside the party Stiles is easy to protect, the guests have been vetted, the surroundings secured, but outside… the public…

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, your highness.”

“Please, Derek,” Stiles steps around the bench, starts crouching as if he’s going to get on his knees. “It’s my birthday!”

“Alright,” Derek baulks, desperate for their crown prince not to kneel before him. “Of course we can. I’m not the boss of you, remember?”

“Ha! Sometimes you like to think you are,” Stiles smirks, suddenly back to the cocksure prince Derek is used to.

“If I say we need to move, though,” Derek follows Stiles and Scott back inside, rolling his eyes fondly as they fist bump.

Scott throws an arm around Stiles’ shoulders in the way only the prince’s best friend from childhood is allowed to. “We promise, Derek,” he twists to beam at Derek. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, and we’ll do whatever we’re told!”

“I’m making no such promise,” Stiles warns. “It is my birthday, after all.”

“It was your birthday last week,” Scott points out, “This was just the formal crap.”

“I’m so glad you saw my fancy birthday party as _formal crap_ , Scotty.”

Their banter is layered with easy, gentle familiarity, and only Scott would ever get away with teasing Stiles about such a ‘significant’ official event. Even Lydia and Allison are still careful with what they say around Stiles sometimes, and Derek often catches him looking frustrated when he notices them clam up around him.

“Oh please, you knew like four people here, buddy,” Scott continues, “I know you want another taste of the real world.”

Stiles looks pained at the reminder he hasn’t been anyway as normal as a bar since college. A whole three months of summer locked up in the palace, badgering Derek to entertain him, lounging around the palace grounds and complaining about the heat. Derek spent most of his time trying not to admire Stiles shirtless beside the pool, and keeping him in a good humor by playing endless games of cards with him.

“You’ve got me there, bud,” Stiles gives a wave to the crowded party—hardly anyone noticing his exit without an announcement, everyone busy networking—and then breathes in the fresh air outside dramatically.

Derek rolls his eyes, “You were just outside ten seconds ago.”

“But, that was different, my friend,” Stiles points at him, hurrying down the steps to where Allison, Lydia and Jackson are waiting for them. “I was still caged in.”

“Like at the zoo,” Scott’s eyes go wide with excitement, “Dude, we totally need to get to the zoo again, soon.”

Derek makes a pained noise just thinking about the security issues and Stiles beams over Scott’s head at him.

“Hell yes.”

“Next year.”

“Nope,” Stiles’ grin sharpens, “Next week.”

Derek sighs, gets out his phone as Boyd escorts them across the street, “I’ll see what I can do.”

He shoots off an email to Stiles’ Private Secretary, Kira, to ask what the prince’s plans will be, and if she can squeeze in a visit.

“Sucker,” Stiles’ mutters in his ear as they duck into the bar.

Derek gives him a dark look, pops his phone away as he glances around. Erica’s in the back checking up on all of the staff, and Boyd’s called Isaac in to wait with the car.

Lydia leads them towards the bar, ignoring the heads turning towards them as people realize it’s Prince Stiles coming inside.

“On the house,” a sweet looking barmaid says as she drops a round of beers in front of them immediately.

“Oh no,” Stiles insists, gets out his card, “Open a tab and put everyone’s first round on me!”

The girl blinks in surprise and then breaks out into a sunny grin, “Okay? First round’s on Prin—”

“Just say it’s on this guy,” Stiles interrupts, claps Scott on the shoulder. “First round’s on this dude, folks!”

The bar gives a cheer and Allison leans up to give Stiles a quick kiss on the cheek.

“That was a very nice gesture of you, Stiles.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, pretends to scrub his cheek, but his eyes are shining and his expression is happy, relaxed as he takes his beer.

“What’s the point of me getting free stuff, right?” He leans back to elbow Derek, “I would have said the round was on you, but I know how you like to keep a low profile.” He grabs another beer, waves it at Derek. “You gonna have one, just this once?”

“I’m working,” Derek reminds him.

“So clock off!”

“You don’t just clock off protecting the future king of the country, Stiles.”

“What if I tell you to.”

Derek feels his lips quirk, “You think I’d stay instead of going home to get a decent night’s sleep?”

Stiles shrugs, eyes dropping to Derek’s mouth for a brief moment before grinning around the neck of his beer. “I dunno, I reckon it might be worth your while.”

Derek sways with the crowd, almost pressing Stiles against the bar but for the hand he has resting on it, keeping some space between them.

“Stiles.”

“Come on, Derek, it’s my birthday! Humor me, for once.”

“And, how am I humouring you?”

“What if it was just us?”

Derek shrugs, already aware of the fact Scott and Allison have disappeared to find a table, knows Jackson’s gone to the bathroom and Lydia’s talking to a banker she’s no doubt going to use to make Jackson jealous with when he gets back.

“It is.”

“You’ve got your ear piece in, and there are three other members of your security team watching us.”

“Price you have to pay for being able to afford a round in a place like this on a Saturday night,” Derek says easily.

Stiles kinks an eyebrow at him, “Touché.” He leans back against the bar, hips tilted towards Derek in a way he’s done a thousand times, and every time it makes Derek a little weak in the knees, makes him think he should have been a fireman, or a nurse, or have taken any job at all where he was allowed to feel turned on in Stiles’ presence, instead.

“So, what if I wasn’t?”

Derek arches an eyebrow back, “I sure as hell wouldn’t be wearing this suit.”

“I’ll say,” Stiles drawls, “It’d be on my bedroom fl—”

“Stiles,” Derek surprises himself as he puts a hand over Stiles’ mouth, and it’s clear it’s caught Stiles off guard to, as his eyes go wide, amused and delighted, all at once. “You need to stop with the terrible pickup lines.”

“They not working for you?” Stiles’ question in muffled and Derek takes his hand away, glances around them again. Boyd’s not even looking their way, clearly talking to Erica on their private line, and no one in the bar is paying them any notice now that the novelty of the prince being there has died down.

“It’s just not… it’s not real,” Derek tries, feels stupid even admitting it.

Stiles blinks at him, “ _What_.”

“The pickup lines, the flirting, the telling me I look good in my suits—”

“You do!”

“I’m your bodyguard!”

“Yeah, I know, and I get that you’re worried I am somehow living under the illusion you are Kevin Costner and I’m Whitney Houston, but Derek?” Stiles grabs his tie before Derek can stop him, pulls him close enough to murmur in his ear, “I can’t sing.”

Derek can’t help the laugh that escapes, pulls back to eye Stiles, “Was that supposed to be sexy?”

Stiles shrugs, “I’m a prince, I’m always sexy.”

“You’re also an idiot.”

“Ha! You didn’t say I wasn’t sexy.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“See? That’s what I like best about you,” Stiles lets go of his tie and takes a sip of his beer, tips his head to one side as he settles again. “You keep it real.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Yep_. You never act like I’m special.”

Derek clucks his tongue, “You _are_ special, Stiles.”

Stiles does a double take, frowns at him, “But, you just said—”

“What I said is that you’re special because of you, not what you were born into. I don’t—” Derek scowls at his inability to explain himself. “If we had met under normal circumstances, I would have…”

Stiles lifts his eyebrows expectantly as he looks back at him, “You’d have… _what_ , Derek? What?”

“You _know_ what,” Derek huffs crossly. “I would never have needed a pickup line.”

“I’d have tried one, anyway,” Stiles replies immediately. “I’d have given you my best shot.”

“What I mean, is that I would have already come over to you. I would have seen you and… I would have wanted to know why you were insisting on wearing a Mets cap indoors on a Saturday night, or wanted to ask who the band on your t-shirt were or just…” he glances at Stiles—who’s staring at him, transfixed—and shrugs. “I’d have just wanted to know your name. I’d have… wanted you. Not because you’re a prince, or because you’ve come in making a scene and buying the place a damn round, but… because of you. I know you, the real you, and that’s what I prefer, that’s what I would have wanted.”

Stiles wets his lips, blows out a breath, “Dude, I think that’s the most I’ve _ever_ heard you talk in public. I mean, can’t shut you up in the palace, you’re a regular chatter box.”

Derek gives him a _look_ , and Stiles smirks, tugs at his collar.

“But, Jesus, that was, you know, a lot. I mean _damn_.”

“Now you know,” Derek says simply, straightens up and begins to adjust his jacket. “Now you can quit with the—”

Stiles catches the lapels of his jacket and pulls him in close enough that their noses brush. Derek’s almost hoping Stiles is going to kiss him, maybe then he’d let himself, if it was Stiles who initiated it…

“Don’t go back on me, now, dude.”

Derek blinks at him, almost goes cross eyed with how close they are, “I’m still here to protect you.”

“So, do it somewhere private,” Stiles murmurs, their lips almost brushing. “Come on, you _cannot_ say all that nice, sexy shit to me and then expect me to _not_ want to jump your bones.”

Derek breathes out a laugh, reluctantly pulls away and loosens Stiles’ hands from his jacket.

“Like I said, I’m on the clock, and you’re here with your friends. You should find them.”

“You know what,” Stiles leans up off the bar, finishes his beer. “Scotty’ll understand; we’re leaving.”

“ _Stiles_.”

“Just, pretend,” Stiles turns into him, their chests pressed together in the confines of the bar. Derek can smell his aftershave, expensive and heady. “Pretend for _once_ , for one night, we’re just, _us_.”

“I can’t,” he says quietly, brushes their fingers together. “You know I can’t.”

Stiles deflates for a second, and then nods, face hardening, “Okay, fine, then find me somebody that can.”

“What.”

“Come on, you won’t, so,” he shrugs, waves his arms around. “Find me someone that’s gonna be as good as you, someone that’s gonna stand up to me, call me on my shit the way I need _you_ to. Find me someone as smart and as sarcastic and god damn abrasive and oddly sweet with exchanging baby pictures to make me feel better! Pick someone, Derek. Find me someone that _I_ can be with, that’s gonna look after me, and put up with me, and see me as special just because I am, not because of my title. Someone that’ll be as worthy as _you_.”

“Stiles.”

“ _You_ said all that shit to me, man. You made my heart feel like it was gonna pound out of my fucking chest, and that’s the first time it’s ever happened in my life! You make me nervous even though I know I’m safe with you, in every way. I trust you, and I lov—“ Stiles stops himself, shrugs again and gives Derek a challenging look. “Find me someone else, Derek. If your job’s to protect me, well then find me someone that’s gonna do that, too. Find me someone you think is gonna be as good as you and _be_ with me, terrible chat up lines and all. Someone that’s gonna go on dates with me, that you’ll have to watch over and walk by my side and _fuck me_ and—”

Derek feels something inside himself snap, and he grabs Stiles’ hand, stalks towards the exit. He doesn’t need to look behind to know Stiles is fucking _preening_ as they leave. It’s as if he knew exactly what to say to make Derek lose it, because he knows _Derek_ , too. He knows about Derek’s short temper and his awkward mannerisms and his poker tells and everything in-between and he still wants him, Stiles wants him. Derek can’t _bear_ the thought of someone else being with him, of someone else being lucky enough to have all of that passion and loyalty and god damn stubbornness directed at them.

“Manipulative son of a—you fucking _played_ me,” he hisses, marching Stiles back towards the parking lot. “Fucking _goaded_ me.”

“I’ve been trying to for like three years, dude.”

“Stop sounding so damn pleased with yourself.”

“I’ve never heard you swear before; I couldn’t sound any _more_ pleased; it’s hot.”

“Dammit, Stiles!”

“And, you’ve used my actual name so much, like, I remember when you insisted on calling me _your highness_ , took you like a year to break.”

“You bitched about it endlessly.”

“I just prefer the way my name sounds coming from you, than I do anyone else. See? I can do my own smooth lines, don’t even need reddit.”

“Stop it!”

Derek’s checking the parking lot as they stride through it, spots Erica and Boyd loitering to their left and sees Erica giving him a _thumbs up_. He feels his ears flush, tries to stamp down on his feelings, on how wildly out of control he’s let himself become.

Stiles huffs loudly, “You know, for someone that just made some very romantic declarations, that were _reciprocated_ , I’ll have you know, you sure are being a cross patch.”

“You’re purposely being obtuse.”

“No, I _genuinely_ don’t see what the problem is.”

“How am I supposed to do my job if _all I can think about_ is you?”

Stiles grins at him as Derek spins them, puts his back to the lot with Stiles safely between him and the limo.

“Isn’t that the whole point _of_ your job?”

“I’m here to notice and protect you from threats, Stiles.” Derek takes a step into him, rests his hands on the limo roof as he leans in to Stiles. “I’m not supposed to notice what cologne you’re wearing, or what your expression is doing when you’re eating, or when you’re watching your friends, or even when you’re looking at me.”

“And, how do I look at you?” Stiles breathes out.

“Exactly as you are _right now_ , and it’s _dangerous_.”

“Because?”

“Because this isn’t a game; this is your life. You can’t spend your time trying to find ways to distract me, you can’t—you can’t _want_ me.”

“Too bad, I do and I know you want me, too. You got heart eyes, man. Well, normally,” Stiles shrugs, “You’re lookin’ a little too angry to have that many hearts in your eyes, right now. Still hot, though. And, you finally get it about the lines! You finally know I mean it! Every time! I should have birthdays every week if this is what it takes to bring out this side in you.”

“At your last birthday you got drunk and tried to do a strip tease in your own bedroom, for no one.”

Stiles tips his head to one side, waits a beat, “ _Seriously_. There was… No one else in the room?”

Derek swallows, “I was there.”

“Slow clap for the guy that takes a whole year to figure that one out and jeez I said you were smart,” Stiles taps his chin, “Kinda making me rethink that one, chief.”

“Stiles!”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t get what the big deal is!”

“How am I supposed to spot someone trying to hurt you if I’m looking at you with—with _heart eyes!_ Which is a stupid phrase!”

“I stand by it. You got them. I got them. And, gee, I dunno, Derek but I guess it makes you way more likely to take a shot for me if you’re into me, right?”

“I would already do that for you.”

“Well, what if I don’t want you to?” Stiles explodes, pushes at his chest. “What if I don’t want you to have to put your life on the line for me, or to say things like _I can’t I’m on the clock_ ,” he imitates Derek with a robot like tone, and Derek scowls at him.

“ _Really_.”

“Okay, you don’t sound exactly like that but still! What if I just want you to come out for drinks with me and my friends and get wasted and come _home_ with me? Maybe, you know, we have drunk sex or probably— more likely— throw up a lot and recover together in the morning. But, you know, _together!_ What if none of this means anything when you’re wearing that god damn suit because I won’t ever know if you even _want_ to be here? I’m the prince, right? That’s what you’re always saying? I can’t know if what you want is to be here, with me, arguing in a parking lot and looking kind of maybe like you’re gonna kiss me but maybe like you’re gonna punch me, fifty fifty.”

“Kiss you,” Derek admits gruffly.

“Oh yeah?!” Stiles falters, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh, okay. Well, that’s, you know, beside the point. I mean, how do I know—” He reaches up and takes off his crown, rests it beside him on the limo. “We’re even, now.”

Derek snorts, “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Come on, Derek, help me out,” Stiles barks out a strained laugh. “I’m feeling both metaphorically and literally naked without that thing. And, I’m really trying to—you know—put myself out there, in an as normal way—even though you think I’m not normal and I’m a weirdo yeah, yeah, joke’s out there—I’m trying. You wanted it real, you know? And, I’m giving you that, all of me. So, how am I supposed to know, with you?”

It’s almost like Derek can feel the ground falling beneath his feet. He can’t go back, now, he’s in too deep, he won’t be able to shrug and walk away from this. He’ll never be able to do this job, protect _this person_ , this important, self-righteous, imperfect, infuriating person, the way he needs to, ever again. He swallows hard, lets the decision wash over him as he looks steadily across at Stiles.

“Because I quit.”

Stiles’ face goes white in shock and he opens his mouth to argue, but Derek holds up a hand.

“I quit, and I love you. In the real way. All the ways.” He glances up at the sky, “The heart eye ways and the god damn Costner ways and everything else in between ways. So. That’s what I have for you. I love you.”

Stiles’ lips quirk in a soft smile and he kicks at the ground between them, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek crosses his arms, frowns at him, “You need me to keep repeating everything tonight or something?”

“You know, normally I’d say I can do what I like, but,” Stiles gestures to the bare top of his head. “I’m just a normal guy for the day.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Yes, this is very Cinderella meets Chasing Liberty.”

Stiles takes a step forward, smile widening, “No way are you as cute as Matthew Goode—”

“Cannot believe you made me watch that movie—”

“—with the accent and the charm—” Stiles continues over him, edging into his space.

“—utterly ridiculous premise—”

“Hey, I love you, too.”

Derek stops short, inhales sharply as he looks at Stiles, right in front of him.

“Hmm?”

“I love you, too, jerk, makin’ me repeat it, too.”

“Can’t let you think you can walk all over me.”

“Can’t walk over you at all if you’re just gonna be a regular tax payin’ citizen from now on, I mean, jeez, you’re paying my wages.”

“You don’t have wages, Stiles.”

“Yeah, okay, but I have a crown, and I have you,” Stiles beams at him.

Derek rolls his eyes, tries not to grin back too brightly, “Does that mean you accept my resignation.”

“Only if you’ll go on a date with me,” Stiles pauses, squints at him, “Kinda defeats the whole point of you quitting when I say it like that, right? I was trynna be cute.”

“It was.”

“’Nother one for the ledger.”

“Stiles.”

“Yes, I accept your resignation. Does that mean Boyd and Erica are in charge of both of us, now?”

“No, but it does mean I can kiss you.”

“Then by all means.”

Derek closes the distance between them, sweeps Stiles up in his arms and kisses him. Stiles grins against his lips for a second before his hands come up to clutch at Derek’s jacket lapels once again, and he kisses Derek back hard.

They stand for a long time, kissing in the parking lot, and Derek forgets they still have people watching them until Erica wolf whistles loudly.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles pulls back. “If you hadn’t already quit you’d totally be fired.”

Derek laughs, eyes drawn towards Stiles’ mouth, “Worth it.”

Stiles quirks an eyebrow at him, steps back and opens the door of the limo. “You wanna go home and be the first guy to bone a prince in my bedroom?”

“That… didn’t even sound remotely sexy. And, people have had sex in your bedroom before.”

“Okay, gross, but I’m the first prince to have a boy—”

“Guys will definitely have had sex in your room, Stiles, and it’s extremely close minded of you to have assumed otherwise.”

“Asshole! I was trynna make it sound exciting.”

“It already is,” Derek says firmly, crowding Stiles up against the door and the car, kisses him some more, because he can.

Behind them, Boyd clears his throat, “You two are not having sex in my car.”

“Technically, it’s my car,” Erica points out, swinging the keys between her fingers, “But, you’re still not having sex in there. Nigh on impossible, trust me.”

“I don’t wanna know,” Stiles points at her, “Also, I’m a prince? I’m totally allowed to have sex wherever I want.”

“Not if it’s gonna get you arrested for lewd behaviour and indecency. Derek has to apply for other jobs starting tomorrow.”

“Did you guys—” Stiles looks between them in horror, “Did you guys hear all of that?”

“Mhm,” Erica smirks, “Had to check he wasn’t gonna make a threat to your life after he so adoringly quit for you.”

“He—you—” Stiles points to Derek, “You knew they were listening?”

Derek shrugs, “How could they not be; it’s their job to keep you safe.”

“But! Embarrassing! For both of us!”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“You should be,” Boyd claps a hand on his shoulder, “Also, I am in charge of you, now. And, I am going to enjoy it. And, you’re probably still gonna have to promise his dad stuff like you’d take a bullet for him.”

“Done,” Derek promises easily, glancing back at Stiles.

Stiles grins, bounces up on his tip toes in excitement as he grabs Derek’s tie, pulls him into the car with him. “Don’t worry, I’d totally take a bullet for you, too, dude.”

“My very own prince charming,” Derek drawls.

“Hell yeah,” Stiles pops his crown back on, winks at Derek, “Don’t you forget it.” Then he winces, “But, also, forget it. Especially when we’re having sex, like, you are not allowed to call me your highness in bed.”

“I really wasn’t planning to.”

“Maybe your majesty, that one sounds grander,” Stiles taps his chin as Derek flinches. “What? What’s wrong with that one? It’s pretty cool.”

“That’s what I have to call your _father_.”

“Ew, okay, we can work on that, like, maybe sir?”

Derek gives him a flat look, “Will you be calling me sir, too?”

Stiles pulls a face at him, “What about your honor?”

“How about idiot?”

“In bed? Seems a bit extreme.”

“Dumbass?”

“ _Stiles_. I think I like Stiles, best, if you’re gonna be a spoilsport about sir.”

“I like Stiles best, too,” Derek takes his hand, squeezes it tight, “So long as you’re mine I don’t care.”

“Possessive _and_ romantic at the same time, I seriously… yeah…. Like that _better_ be a theme in the bedroom.”

“Stiles, quit talking about sex.”

“Quit talking about sex, your highness.”

“I’m walking.”

Boyd slides the partition up. Stiles reels Derek in by his tie and kisses him again.

*

King Stilinski isn’t the least bit surprised when they tell him, isn’t angry at all. _No one_ is surprised. Jackson and Lydia exchange money. Scott beams. Allison teasingly asks if this means Derek has to wear a crown, now. Derek does not. Very often. Once or twice. In bed. Just to humor Stiles. It’s what he’s best at. Being a total and complete sucker for Stiles. He’s lucky Stiles is just the same for him. Except when he tries to get Derek to reenact scenes from The Bodyguard with him. There Derek draws the line. 

Once. He did it once.


	2. Chapter 2

 “I can’t believe how cliché you are, coming to _pick me up_ for our first date in your fancy, fancy car,” Stiles is rolling his eyes as he comes down the palace steps, stops in front of Derek’s car.

“What’s wrong with my car?” Derek huffs, crossing his arms and scowling uncomfortably; _he thought it would be a nice gesture,_ dammit.

“Nothing, honestly,” Stiles beams at him, “I just didn’t expect it.”

“Surprise.”

“Don’t be cross! It’s good, nice, I like the car.”

“Great, get in.”

“You’re not gonna open the door for me? Gimme some flowers?”

Derek shrugs, “You said you wanted a normal date; not an over the top date from nineteen eighty three.”

“Well, yeah, we need to have a date. I don’t want you to think I’m easy. I need at _least_ dinner and a movie before I put out.”

On the palace steps, Boyd makes a pained noise and glares at Derek, “Why did it have to be _you_ he decided to date?”

“Decided to _love_ ,” Stiles corrects him, thumbing over his shoulder as he wiggles his eyebrows at Derek. “See? Now we’re _both_ cliché; you brought your fancy ass car to impress me on our first date, and _I_ have the disapproving bodyguard!”

“Sounds like a true Disney classic,” Derek says drily, opens the passenger door, “You coming, or did you want to spend all night here, arguing over which of us is the most cheesy?”

“It’s tempting, to be honest, we could get a points system going and everything,” Stiles’ eyes light up, “I can get the ledger out!”

Derek widens his eyes at him in warning, “Stiles, the movie is at seven.”

“Damn, we’ll miss the previews,” Stiles hurries around the car to get in.

Before he can does so, though, Derek stops him, curls a hand around his jaw to kiss him hello. It’s been a day and a half since they last saw one another, but it feels like a hell of a lot longer. He’s signed endless paperwork, agreements he won’t be selling palace secrets to the press now he’s no longer on their staff, the usual non-disclosures now he’s going to be in a relationship with Stiles, _if_ that’s what they’re going to do. He hasn’t had a moment to himself to pause and consider what might happen if he and Stiles don’t work now he’s just a regular person. What if Stiles decides he liked the chase better than actually having Derek? What if he realizes Derek is boring when he’s not there to remind Stiles his life could, at any moment, be endangered? What if he was just the sort of adrenaline kick Stiles was looking for?

Derek makes the kiss _really good_ , just in case.

Stiles hums, pulls away to beam at him, “’S’nice to be able to do that, now?”

Derek coughs, tries to clear his head, still dizzy from the kiss, “Uh, yep.”

“You pretending not to be embarrassed about it?”

“Shut up.”

“Kissing me hello, coming to my door to pick me up,” Stiles clucks his tongue as he clambers into the car, leans out of the window as soon as Derek closes the door behind him. “You’re a _romantic_.”

“I’m gonna be _absent_ in about thirty seconds.”

“Liar; you quit your _job_ for me.” Stiles scratches his nose, glances at him as Derek starts to pull out of the palace gates. “Does that make me your sugar daddy?”

Derek snorts, “ _What_.”

“Yeah, you come over,” Stiles kinks an eyebrow, “Gimme a little sugar and I give you an emerald or something in return.”

“And, what would I spend an emerald on?”

Stiles gives him an innocent look, “Don’t most grocery stores accept precious gems as payment, these days?”

“You try paying at the movie theatre with one of those, and we’ll see what happens.”

Stiles grins, taps the top of Derek’s hand where it’s resting on the stick, “I really do think it’s cute you came to pick me up, by the way.”

“It’s not like you could come and get me,” Derek reminds him.

“Hey! I can drive.”

“You can…” Derek pulls a face, “You can sort of be trusted to get your jeep from one end of the farm to the other.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, “I’ve been driving since I was a kid, asshole.”

“Not on roads.”

“See if I come get you next time, then. Maybe I’ll make you walk.”

“I like walking,” Derek replies mildly. “I probably wouldn’t like _you_ much if you left me hanging somewhere, though.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment before making a pouty face at him, “I’d never leave you hanging anywhere, boo.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Gee.”

“I’m serious,” Stiles shifts, slips his fingers between Derek’s and visibly relaxes when Derek lets go of the stick to twine their hands together. “Although, I don’t even know where your apartment is, or what it looks like! How crazy is that? I love you, and I don’t even know where you live, or what color your walls are.”

Derek glances at him, squeezes their hands together, “I live on fifty first, and my walls are yellow.”

Stiles’ pensive expression vanishes and he bursts out laughing, “Yellow?”

“Yeah, my sister decorated,” Derek scowls, “It’s not like I could tell her I didn’t like it.”

“Aw, dude, that’s so cute. You didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” Stiles rests his head against the seat, watches him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re such a marshmallow. I mean, you’re in no way soft,” Stiles prods at his stomach, “But, secretly inside? Totally a marshmallow.”

“Should I expect these bizarre compliments to be a long standing theme within our relationship?”

“I dunno, _are_ we in a relationship?” The question speeds out of Stiles like he’s been worrying over it as much as Derek, and Derek waits until he’s parked outside the movie complex to twist in his seat, arch an eyebrow at him.

Stiles flushes, “Look, mock me all you like for doing the where is this going talk too fast but—”

“Stiles, I wasn’t going to mock you.”

“That’s a first.”

“I’d wondered the same thing,” Derek admits honestly.

“You—oh, really?”

“Sure,” Derek shrugs awkwardly against his seat. “We’ve spent three years living in each other’s pockets, but… because we had to. You might find you see me differently, now.”

“What, now you’re not in a sexy suit all day?”

Derek shoots him a look, and Stiles sighs, chews on his bottom lip.

“I just… you can do whatever you want, now, be wherever you want. What if you don’t, you know… want _me?”_

Stiles blows out a breath, glances out of the car window, “Derek, come on, I mean—” he waves a hand across at Derek. “That’s just impossible.”

“So…” Derek lifts both his eyebrows, “We’re… dating?”

Stiles scoffs, “Try not to look so pained about—”

Derek launches forward and kisses him, doesn’t want to trivialize the moment, or make Stiles think for one second he’s not in this, all in.

Stiles smiles against his mouth, puts a hand up against Derek’s cheek as he kisses him back. When he pulls away he lets his forehead rest against Derek’s for a moment.

“So, now we’ve had that awkward talk, do you wanna go inside and have an actual date?”

“I dunno, I kinda like it here.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles moves to get out of the car, “Of course you do, I’m safe in the car; nobody would dare even try and get their hands on me in here.”

“That’s not _entirely_ true,” Derek grins wickedly at him over the roof of the car, and Stiles goes a very fetching red.

“Now I want to get back in, _dude!_ ”

Derek shrugs, “I was just being honest.”

“Yeah, well now I wanna see if we can bone in your car, god! I don’t care about the stupid movie.”

“I thought you said we needed three dates before you—as you so _charmingly_ put it—put out.”

Stiles smirks, comes to stand in front of him, “Doesn’t mean I can’t have a change of heart; I _am_ seeing you out of a suit for the first time ever, and,” he gives Derek’s shirt and jeans a once over, “I’m into it.”

Derek clears his throat and hopes his cheeks aren’t too red. When he glances back up, Stiles is smirking at him in the late evening sun, eyes fond.

“Come on, before you miss your previews,” he strides towards the theatre, aware of Boyd and Erica leaning against their own car just to the left.

“Hey, you didn’t do anything stupid for this, right?” Stiles asks as he spots the pair, too.

“Hmm?”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles elbows him as they head inside, “You didn’t insist on the place being deserted just because I was coming in, _right?_ ”

Derek avoids eye contact, because that’s _exactly_ what he tried to do before Erica stopped him, and shrugs, “ _No_.”

“Derek!”

“I didn’t… in the end.” Stiles opens his mouth, but Derek holds up a hand to stop him, “I’m sorry but I can’t help it! I spent three years protecting you; I can’t just _stop_.”

Stiles’ expression softens and he grabs Derek’s hand, comes into his space, “I’m not asking you to stop looking out for me— I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s what _boyfriends_ are supposed to do for each other—I’m just… I thought we were gonna try _normal_.”

Derek tilts his head to where at least three different onlookers have their phones out and seem to be recording their conversation. “I don’t think this is ever going to be _entirely_ normal.”

Stiles winces, gives the gathering crowd a weak wave, “Can we just get in line? I’m paying and then _you’re_ buying _me_ a massive popcorn and we can argue about what kind of limits you need when arranging dates later?”

“Yes,” Derek moves to join the queue, realizes they’re still holding hands and pauses. “Are we doing this part? In public?”

“Yes, we damn well are,” Stiles hisses, squeezing his bones just hard enough to hurt, “Don’t you dare chicken out of me when these videos are gonna be on fucking TMZ later.”

Derek laughs, draws Stiles in close enough to wind his arm around his waist, “Okay?”

Stiles wiggles a little, hip bumping against Derek’s fingers in a way that makes him feel warm and right all at once.

“ _Yes_ , this is good,” he sniffs finally.

“Well, what a relief, _your highness_ ,” Derek teases.

Stiles flips him off with his free hand, flicks Derek’s nose and then turns to the young woman waiting to serve them. She only fumbles once with the tickets, avoiding Stiles’ gaze altogether and then staring after them as they walk away.

“Hey, are you a celebrity or something?” Stiles asks Derek teasingly, “People are lookin’ at you an awful lot.”

“Yeah, on my days off from following you around I built up my own following through…” Derek wrinkles up his nose, “What’s that video site you and Scott like?”

“Vine.”

“That one.”

Stiles beams at him, “I’d watch your videos.”

“They’d mostly be me, complaining about _you_.”

“Can’t stop thinking about me, even when you’re not at work, sucker!”

Derek rolls his eyes and throws his ticket at him, “Come on, the movie waits for no man.”

“Good job you’re famous, then; they can always rewind it for you.”

“Rewind,” Derek pretends to choke, “You know how to _rewind_ a movie?”

Stiles stamps on his foot.

*

They settle into the busy movie theatre, less people interested in them now the lights are low and the movie’s about to start.

Stiles slings an arm over the back of Derek’s chair, shrugs when Derek arches an eyebrow, “What, you think I’m gonna do the yawn trick halfway through?”

“I was expecting you to boss me into doing it, actually.”

“Asshole,” Stiles throws a kernel of popcorn at him, rests his knee against Derek’s. “You can put your hand on my leg if you like.”

Derek gives him a flat look, “Gee, talk dirty to me.”

Stiles’ head shoots up and he glances around before looking back at Derek, “Is that—”

“I was joking,” Derek says quickly.

“Yeah, but is it something you like?”

Derek shifts, hoping Boyd is way, _way back_ in the theatre.

“Maybe, sometimes? Done right.”

“Well, how is it done _right_ , I mean, what if I do it wrong?”

“You don’t _have_ to do it at all.”

“But, you’ve done it before.”

“Does it matter?”

“I asked! And, I’ll tell you how many times I’ve done it, a grand total of zero! Now, you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Derek flushes, “When I was sixteen and an idiot. I sounded ridiculous, and eventually my girlfriend at the time told me to give up.”

Stiles watches him instead of the commercials for coca cola, popcorn forgotten in his hand.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I’ve had a couple.”

“Serious?”

“One,” Derek squints at the screen, “Don’t you want to watch—”

“How many people have you had sex with?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Derek groans, sinks lower into his seat, “How did we get onto this?”

“I’m just curious—”

A woman turns around to shush them, and then realizes just who is sitting behind her. Her face goes bright red and she begins to apologize.

“It’s fine, I was being loud,” Stiles waves a dismissive hand in the air, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But, your highness—”

“He was being rude,” Derek snaps, “You’re allowed to tell him to shut up like you would any other normal patron in here.”

She stares at him in horror and then twists back to stare steadfastly at the screen. Derek glances at Stiles and blinks in confusion when he sees Stiles grinning back at him.

“What.”

“Nothin’, it’s just nice to know you’re gonna keep being _that_ asshole in public.”

“I haven’t changed overnight, Stiles.”

“I know,” Stiles rubs his face, “I just don’t want you to start giving me special treatment.”

“But, I will,” Derek retorts exasperatedly. “You want to date me, I want to date you, we’re going to date, I’m going to treat you like I would any other date. With respect. And… affection.”

“Well, as much as that sounds a little robotic—”

“I haven’t dated _anyone_ since I was twenty two, Stiles, give me a break.”

“—I was going to say it still sounded nice!”

“Good!”

“Fine! Wait, does that mean we don’t have to use condoms?”

“Jesus, didn’t you learn anything in sex ed? No, it doesn’t mean that.”

“But, I’ve never even—I mean, I know I’m clean, I’ve even been tested before. For like, science. Curiosity.”

“I have to have a physical with the palace doctor every six month, I’m clean,” Derek rolls his head back, stares at the ceiling mournfully. “I cannot believe we’re even having this conversation in the middle of a fucking Channing Tatum movie.”

“I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“About what?”

“About having sex bareback!”

“Stiles! Jesus!”

“Shush!” (Derek’s _sure_ that shush came from Boyd).

The movie music rises on the background as they’re still half glaring, half trying not to grin at one another, and Stiles deflates, sinks down into his seat so that they’re closer together.

“I’m being a really shit date so far, aren’t I?”

“The shouting at me about every little thing hasn’t exactly been pleasant.”

“I’m nervous, okay? I’ve never done… this before. And, I don’t want to act like I’m head over heels for you all the time because then you might think I’ve turned into a pod person, or that I’m a sap and so I overdid it with being a dick.” He winces in the dark, scratches at his chin. “I’m sorry.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever apologized to me, for anything, you know.”

“I apologized that time I accidentally hit you with my baseball.”

“You were aiming _right at me_ , you didn’t mean that apology.”

“You weren’t paying attention to me! I was nineteen and horny.”

“So, what, you tried to make me into your catcher?”

“Well,” Stiles grins sharply, “Terrible pun aside, if you’re interested...”

Derek shifts awkwardly in his seat, reminding himself they’re in public and somewhere Boyd will be watching them like a hawk.

“Of course,” he murmurs, “But, just so you know,” he gives Stiles a pointed look, “I’m not judging you for being… sweet about stuff. It’s nice. It would be nice. It’s been a long time since I’ve ever… been affectionate with anyone. And, for the record there were guys, hook ups, mostly, never a serious boyfriend.”

“I’ve never had one,” Stiles moves to fidget with his ear, kicks his foot against Derek’s. “I once made out with Lacey Brown, but she really just liked the idea of being the first Princess Lacey I think.”

Derek snorts, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never written Prince Derek on anything.”

Stiles tips his head back, grins at him, “You wouldn’t be a prince, even if we _did_ get married. But, Prince Derek does have a nice ring to it.”

“I think I’ll live without the title.”

“Oh no, siree, if this date is a success—”

“If?”

There’s an explosion in the background, and Stiles harrumphs.

“We so picked the wrong place for a date, tonight.”

“I thought about the zoo, but you said no special treatment and they only do night visits for very rich people.”

Stiles barks out a laugh—it’s inappropriate for the scene as someone begins wailing in the background—and then leans in close to Derek.

“Should we go someplace else and talk?”

“We could,” Derek considers him, drops his gaze to Stiles’ mouth, “Or we could stay here, in the dark.”

“Good thinking,” Stiles agrees, picking up on Derek’s implication and kissing him before either of them can think of another argument not to.

*

“That was a good movie,” Stiles announces as they follow the throngs of people out into the crisp night air.

Derek huffs a laugh, lips still tingling from the hours they spent making out in the theatre.

“Give me a basic summary, right now, of what you saw in there.”

“Oh, a hot dude feelin’ me up a little bit, lot of scruff, some intense eye contact and a good deal of _lip_ ,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, “But, movie wise? Probably couldn’t tell you what happened in the first scene, and I’m not sorry. I stand by the declaration it was a good movie.”

Derek smiles at him, tugs him in close as they head for the car, “I’d go see it again.”

“Mhm, and then some,” Stiles looks over at him, “Where’s dinner?”

“Up by my place.”

“Ooooh, so I’ll not only know where you live, tonight; but be in the same _vicinity_ of it? This date is turning out to be super informative.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never looked up my life before.”

Stiles snorts, “You’d have caught me.”

“Never stopped you from trying other crap before.”

“Yeah, but that was fun stuff,” Stiles turns to rest against the car, wets his lips, “It kinda felt like if I dug for personal stuff… you wouldn’t have taken it well.”

“You could have asked.”

“I know the important stuff,” Stiles smiles softly at him, “I know you.”

Derek hums, steps into his space, “Still up for date number two?”

Stiles pulls back his head to look at him, “Are you—are you trying to fit all three dates in, tonight? Like, are you trynna get me into bed later?!”

“No! I just phrased it badly, I never meant—” Derek cringes, panicked for a moment before Stiles bursts into laughter, hooks an arm around his shoulders to tug him in close.

“Dude, I’m fucking with you, I am _so_ putting out later.”

Derek scowls at him, “Who says I’m putting out?”

“Uh, only the fact that you’ve been lookin’ at me like a dog looks at a bone all night.”

“You have such a way with words.”

“Pfft, you don’t care about my words.”

“I care about all your words,” Derek pauses, “Except the ridiculous ones.”

“So, most of them?” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows at him, “See? Good at laughing at himself, you should add that to my pros list.”

Derek frowns, “Do you have cons?”

“Smooth,” Stiles leans in quickly to kiss him, “I mean, _really_ smooth. But, also yes? I have cons. We made a list of them just the other night, remember? The whole prince thing? Lack of dirty talk experience—”

“I really have no idea why you think that’s an issue.”

“—not to mention the _virgin_ thing.”

“That’s—I don’t care about that, Stiles.”

“Well you should! I’m twenty one years old!”

“As of last week.”

“Yeah, and before that I was still twenty and a virgin.”

“Lots of people wait. My sister was twenty five.”

“But, _you_ didn’t! Wait, really? Twenty five?”

“She never met anyone she wanted a one night stand with, and she didn’t have a boyfriend until she was twenty four.”

Stiles seems to flounder for a moment, and then wets his lips, “Okay, well, that makes me feel like, slightly better.”

“Why are you worrying about that? I’ve seen you naked before.”

“You haven’t seen me naked and you know… trynna put stuff in—”

“ _Christ_ , okay maybe we have to work on _sex_ talk before dirty talk.”

“See? This is what I’m trynna tell you! I’m inexperienced! The only person I’ve ever even shared a bed with is Scott.”

Derek can’t help but clench down his jaw, “With—you and Scott?”

“At sleepovers?” Stiles lifts an eyebrow, “But, okay, _that’s_ a nerve.”

“Everyone has them,” Derek manages, shrugs in an attempt to be indifferent, “I’m—sometimes I get… jealous.”

“Of Scott.”

“He’s known you a long time.”

“He’s seen me try and eat my own toes. I mean, we were like two so I reckon he doesn’t remember but Scott? My best friend! Me being close with him is so not the same as you having had sex _millions_ of times and me _zero_.”

“I’ve never kept count, but I can guarantee it’s not in the millions.” Derek glances around, sees Boyd and Erica leaning against their car looking bored. “I’m not the lothario you seem to think I am.”

“ _Lothario_ ,” Stiles sniggers, “Oh my god, you ninety year old, you.”

“Remind me again why I love you?”

“I keep you feeling young? Remind you of yester year?”

“I’m getting a call,” Derek pulls out his phone, holds it up to his ear, “It’s yester year and they say fuck off.”

Stiles cackles delightedly, winds his arms around Derek’s neck, “It is really awesome when you swear; turns me on.”

“And lots of things you do turn me on, so will  you just relax about the sex thing?”

“I’ve been talking about it nonstop! What if I’m all talk?”

“You’re _always_ all talk; that’s part of your charm.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Sure, then,” Derek shrugs, “I won’t have been a very good partner if you feel uncomfortable and unhappy. Sex isn’t about proving a point, Stiles, it’s about—”

“If you say expressing our feelings for each other…”

Derek pretends to drop his arms from around Stiles, “That’s it, I’m done.”

“No no, come back!” Stiles tugs on his shirt and Derek swoops back in laughing, presses him up against the car and kisses him passionately. Stiles inhales in surprise, hands sliding up his shoulders to rest in his hair, tugging at it slightly as he kisses Derek back. Derek lets himself fall into Stiles completely, utterly lost in the kiss, the way Stiles feels against him.

“Fucker,” Stiles murmurs slightly later, “You scared me for a second.”

“ _Barely_ a second,” Derek argues.

“Still, made my knees all weak with that surprise kiss move.”

“It wasn’t a _move_.”

“ _Do_ you have moves?” Stiles pulls back to look him in the eye, smirks, “Should I bring moves to the table, too?”

“What table?” Derek narrows his eyes, “Little advanced for our first time?”

Stiles snorts, punches him on the arm, “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t care about moves, or lack of, or inexperience, I just want you,” Derek leans in to kiss him again. “Also food; I want food.”

“In that order?”

“Food first, then everything else,” Derek grins as Stiles shivers against him, nods in agreement.

“You know all you have to do is say the word food and I’m in.”

“Then we should go. Our reservation was for ten and we’re late, already.”

“We’re always late.”

“It’s part of our charm. Oh, and PS, I certainly hope the _everything_ _else_ means feelin’ you up some more after.”

Derek swallows hard, gets in the car feeling a whole lot less nervous about where he stands with Stiles, and a lot more nervous about what they’ll be doing _after_ dinner.

*

“So,” Stiles rests his chin in his hands and grins at Derek across the table. The waitress has brought their drinks, awkwardly bowing her head to Stiles every two seconds before hurrying back to her station and trying not to look like she’s texting everyone she knows _Prince Stiles is at her restaurant on a date_.

“Where’d’you grow up?”

Derek smirks back, “Seriously?”

“Mhm, first date trivia, gimme some.”

“Cali,” Derek shrugs, “Up north.”

“You weren’t a true sunshine surfer boy,” Stiles clutches at his chest, “Color me _shocked_.”

“What about you?” Derek pulls a face when Stiles beams—he’s in too deep if he’s willing to play along with something like this—and then waves his beer at Stiles. “Where did _you_ grow up, Stiles? Wow, that’s an unusual name, almost like it’s not your real, _given_ name. Tell me, first date stranger; what’s _your_ favorite color?”

Stiles flips him off, leans back in his chair, “You _know_ where I grew up, and what my real name is, and that my favorite color is blue. I _genuinely did not know_ where you grew up.”

Derek feels briefly chastened, sits forward, “Okay, then seriously,” he quirks an eyebrow, “What do you wanna know?”

“I got a pretty long list.”

“I’ve got all night.”

Stiles’ whole expression goes soft and warm, and Derek has to take a sip of his beer to tamp down on the rush of feelings he gets just from looking at him.

“Favorite subject at school?”

“History.”

“All boys school?”

“Mixed; it drove me crazy having my sisters cramping my style,” Derek winces, “I thought I was pretty cool, back in the day.”

“As opposed to now, when you are, for sure, the _epitome_ of cool.”

“Exactly,” Derek waves his glass at him, “ _You_ must think so or you wouldn’t want to date me.”

Stiles grins, pulls his chair in closer to genuinely lean into Derek, all demanding a ‘pretend’ first date gone as they fall into their usual tone of conversation.

“I love you; I’m biased. First girlfriend?”

“Her name was Paige, nice, kind, little bit sharp,” Derek gives Stiles a look, “Called me out on my crap a lot.”

“A preference you haven’t lost, then.”

“I do tend to enjoy the company of people that keep me on my toes.”

Stiles nudges Derek’s toes under the table with his own, grins at him, “Like me?”

“Mhm.”

“And, after Paige?”

“We were together for a couple of years and then…” Derek shrugs, “I was busy, I didn’t really date.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide, and he rubs at his nose, “So, that would be uh, where the guys came in? Do your folks know?”

“They know about _you_.”

“ _Everyone_ knows about me,” Stiles sighs, gestures to where two more waitresses are eyeing them from over the bar.

“I mean, they know about you and who you are to _me_ ,” Derek corrects, takes Stiles’ hand on the table top and laces their fingers together. “What I hope… this will be.”

“And, what is that?”

“That we’ll get married and have lots of babies,” Derek deadpans.

Stiles laughs brightly, squeezes his fingers, “Seriously.”

“I think you should come home with me, when you’ve got a free weekend, meet them all.”

“What if—” Stiles stops himself, squirms in his seat.

“What.”

Stiles squints at the ceiling, avoids meeting Derek’s eye.

“Stiles.”

“What if they don’t like me?!” Stiles throws his head back, “Oh my god, I was so much more self-assured before I told you I loved you, Jesus, I’m so lame, now.”

“You were lame before.”

“Asshole!”

Derek traps Stiles’ foot between his own, looks at him seriously, “I’ve never taken anyone home to meet my parents, before.”

“What, even the serious girlfriend?”

“That was Paige; she knew my parents, we all knew each other in my town.”

“So, you haven’t… no one else?”

“No one else has ever been as important, or as significant to me.”

“Well, same,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, “You’re the first boy I ever took home to meet my dad.” He pauses, before giving Derek a small smile. “You’re actually the only boy he’s ever known I was interested in; before it was all just hypothetical. Hypothetically, dad, if I liked a boy… that kind of thing.”

“Was he surprised?”

“About the guys yes, you no,” Stiles grins, “He said he saw that coming from the start.”

“You were extremely rude to me.”

“Yeah, that’s how he knew,” Stiles coughs awkwardly, “Apparently, I uh, he said my eyes lit up and he could tell my being so belligerent with you was to get your attention.”

“Belligerent is the word,” Derek agrees.

“Hey, you liked it, don’t lie.”

“Of course I liked it; doesn’t mean you weren’t difficult.”

Stiles beams like Derek’s given him the greatest compliment.

“What?”

“You said that with such fondness, dude.”

“Well, I do happen to be quite fond of you.”

“Ditto,” Stiles says softly, smiling at Derek once more. For a second, the noise of the restaurant fades out and it’s just the two of them, smiling at each other like the love sick fools they are.

Derek can feel it in his gut, the twist and the swoop every time he looks at Stiles.

“You scared?” Stiles asks after a moment.

“Hmmm?”

“Of this?”

“Of a relationship? No. Of you,” Derek pretends to shudder, “Absolutely.”

Stiles punches his arm, “Dick. Really, though? You’re not scared?”

“What’s there to be scared about?”

“Well, if I screw up—”

“Everyone does.”

“You’ve had practice!”

“Not for a long time, besides,” Derek taps his fingers against Stiles’, “The whole point of any new relationship is you do it together.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Stiles admits quietly.

“Keep a tracker on me.”

“Ha! I could try,” Stiles tilts his head to one side, “You do sleep pretty heavily sometimes; you might not notice.”

Derek nods, “Sure, or, you could just suck it up and deal with the fact we might fight, no—” he holds up a hand when Stiles goes to no doubt say something along the lines of they definitely will fight.

“—When we do fight, don’t always assume you’re the one in the wrong.”

“You sayin’ you might not always be right about stuff?”

“I’m saying you have to let the hang up about never having had a relationship _go_. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles nods, meets his eye steadily, “This got pretty deep for a first date.”

Derek smirks and sits back, “Isn’t that supposed to be your line?”

Stiles chokes on the sip of his beer he was just taking, laughs loudly, “Ugh, no, _you_ are not allowed to make those sort of innuendos.”

“Too bad,” Derek gives a bright smile, “I’ve picked up more than a few from you.”

Stiles twists around to wave at Boyd, “Hey, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Derek moves to get up and then freezes, halfway out of his chair.

Stiles smirks at him, “You comin’ to keep me company?”

Derek sits back down heavily, “You knew I was going to do that, you set me up! It’s habit.”

“One we _have_ to break,” Stiles points at him, “You’re my boyfriend; we need boundaries!”

“Says who?” Derek asks crossly.

“Just relax and enjoy watching me walk away,” Stiles pats his own ass, “I know this thing looks good in these pants.”

“That’s not the…” Derek trails off as he does in fact, watch Stiles walk away. It’s a nice view; Stiles has a good ass, and Derek is allowed, for the first time, to appreciate it in all its glory.

Stiles turns at the bathroom door, way across the crowded restaurant, and yells, “Busted!”

Derek finishes his beer in one to avoid meeting the eye of any curious customers.

*

Through dinner, they talk about baseball (Stiles’ favorite subject), and Derek’s love of museums (Stiles declares they have to go back to all of the ones they’ve visited in the last three years that Derek couldn’t enjoy because he was too busy looking at Stiles).

“I suppose I could argue that you’re art, and I had no problem looking at you,” Derek says mildly, deep into his third beer and feeling a little reckless, a little flirty.

Stiles snickers, “Damn, your lines are way better than mine.”

“I was being sincere, mostly.”

“Well, we still need to go back, and you can give me tours with less than _official_ information about everything.”

Derek pretends to look overwhelmed, “Seems like I’ll be doing a lot of homework before each of these dates.”

“You _like_ shit like that; you’re a nerd. Besides, my homework will be shit like _what is the best sexual position to please your man_ , so—”

Derek chokes on his beer, glares at Stiles through watery eyes, “St—iles.”

Stiles gives him an innocent look, jabs his fork into the last piece of his steak, “What?”

“You _know_ what,” Derek mutters darkly, “You’re a menace, tonight.”

“You should be used to it by now,” Stiles glances around for the waitress, sits back far enough that his shirt rides up, draws Derek’s gaze to the bare skin underneath. “Dessert?”

Derek swallows, wets his lips, “No, I don’t think we need dessert.”

Stiles’ cocky look vanishes and he fiddles with his empty glass, arches an eyebrow at him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek waves for the check, “You wanna go home? Tired? Need an early night?”

“I’m not sure,” Stiles runs a finger around the rim of his glass, “You know on one hand, it’s pretty late and it’s Monday,” he pretends to shudder, “School night.”

“You haven’t been to school for years.”

“But, on the other I do sort of want to see your apartment, and we’ve talked a lot about sex, tonight and although I am really, seriously nervous about it—you’re gonna have to deal with me rambling a lot—”

“I do that now.”

“—I do think I would really like to try it,” Stiles looks up at him steadily, “With you. Like a lot. What do you think?”

“I—” Derek shifts in his chair, trying not to think about sex with Stiles while they’re still in public. “You know you don’t have to if you’re not ready—”

“Jesus, Derek I was ready three years ago when you walked into the drawing room and said _I’m Derek Hale and I’ll be in charge of your protection from now on_.”

“I _did not_ sound like a damn robot.”

“You did, at the time, but there was a twinkle in your eye—”

“There was _not_.”

“—that clearly said you wanted to haul me up against the wall and have your way with me.”

“You have a vivid imagination.”

“I’ll say, ‘s’gotten me through the last few years with you insisting on ignoring our ever growing sexual tension.”

“I was working.”

“And, now you’re not. We can go to work in a different way, together.”

“I’m vetoing any further puns on sex outside of the actual term _having sex_.”

“Fine by me,” Stiles grins at him, passes his own visa to the waitress before Derek can pay. “Shall we go have sex?”

The waitress sucks in a loud and surprised breath, stares at the ceiling as Stiles pays. Derek can’t dare to look at her, either, can’t _imagine_ what she’s going to be posting on twitter the second they leave.

“You couldn’t wait until she was gone?”

“And miss a golden opportunity to both beat you at your own game _and_ embarrass you? Never.” Stiles stands, begins to move away from the table, but Derek launches up and kisses him before he can go anywhere. It’s a long moment before either of them break away, but when they do, Stiles’ eyes stay half shut, focused on Derek’s mouth.

“Hmm, what was that—”

“It wasn’t for anything,” Derek ducks in to kiss him again, “I just wanted to. Feel free to kiss me whenever you want, too. I don’t care who’s watching, or who’s going to take pictures, or if everyone on the planet knows we’re dating.”

“Or having sex.”

“Don’t care about that, either.”

“Good,” Stiles murmurs dazedly, clears his throat and steps back, “They might notice me glowing tomorrow and start commenting on it, anyway.”

Derek shrugs, “Then I’ll be glowing, too.”

“Ugh, you are… so weird and romantic, I hate it.”

“Liar.”

*

“Nice walls,” Stiles teases as he follows Derek through the living room, kicking off his shoes after Derek does the same.

Derek twists to glare at him, grabbing beers from the fridge and casting a glance over the kitchen. It’s not messy; three years of barely living in his apartment has meant he’s never had enough time there to clutter it up. He kicks the trash further into the corner, runs a cloth over the surface as Stiles chatters in the background, humming in response to something Stiles says about his dvd collection.  

Boyd had given Derek the emergency phone, told him that he and Erica were _not_ coming upstairs with them, but that they’d be downstairs in the car. Derek felt a twinge of guilt at them sitting there all night—considered asking them up—but then remembered Stiles might possibly be getting naked in his arms in the near future and he felt decidedly _less_ guilty.

Besides, they owe him from the numerous times he’s walked in on them in the palace kitchens feeding each other, making _googly eyes_ or even kissing in alcoves when they shouldn’t have been. He’s allowed this.

It still feels insane that he _is_ allowed this; Stiles here, after a _date_ , looking at the pictures on Derek’s book shelf and peeling off his jacket.

“You read all of these?” Stiles gestures to the books, and Derek comes up close behind him, allows himself to press in and breathe in Stiles’ scent. Stiles shivers and turns to blink across at him. “You even want to talk about books or—”

Derek hums, rests a hand on Stiles’ lower back and draws him in close, “Do you?”

“Nope,” Stiles half throws himself into Derek’s arms and kisses him again. They’re both keyed up, and the kisses are much more passionate than any they’ve had before, desperate and messy. They fall against the book case, rutting against one another now they finally can. Derek’s hard already, been half hard since he followed Stiles inside his apartment and watched his ass all the way across the living room.

The anticipation’s been building up so much he’s a little worried Stiles’ll only have to touch him and he’ll go off. He slides his thigh between Stiles’ legs, pressing in and Stiles is as hard as Derek, winds one leg around Derek’s, urging him closer. It’s hot and heady, their hands clutching at one another as they clutch at clothes, gripping each other’s hair. Stiles pulls away to nudge at Derek’s chin and Derek obliges, lifting his head up for Stiles to kiss at his throat. His faint stubble is scraping deliciously against Derek’s neck. He sucks at Derek’s skin, making Derek groan and press into him harder.

A book falls from the shelf and Stiles laughs, nips at the newly reddened skin where Derek’s bound to have bruise in the morning. He doesn’t mind, wants the marks, wants everyone to know Stiles was there.

“Come on, come on,” Stiles grabs his hand, yanks him away from the shelves, “Before we do serious damage to your nerdy books.”

“You don’t know they’re _all_ nerdy,” Derek argues.

“Pfft, I know you, don’t I?”

Derek kisses him again, preventing himself from saying something about how happy he is Stiles knows him, loves him, wants to be here with him.

They migrate towards the couch as they kiss, Derek shrugging off his jacket and tossing it somewhere—making Stiles laugh and call him over dramatic as it hits something breakable in background—and fall onto it together. Stiles is an excitable tangle of limbs, still trying to kiss him as they readjust, settling above Derek. He’s a warm, welcome weight on top of him and Derek relishes the easy way they fit together as they move.

Derek lets his hands drift up Stiles’ back, pushing his shirt out of the way as he goes. Stiles’ own hands are trailing along Derek’s shoulders, fingers brushing against his neck and back down again to clutch at his arms. He starts tugging at Derek’s collar, trying to get his shirt off and Derek sits up, lifts his arms to help Stiles pull at the sleeves.

“You… are _really_ built,” Stiles complains as his eyes flit over Derek’s chest, “How am I supposed to compete with this?”

“You don’t need to,” Derek laughs, tugs at Stiles’ shirt, “I like you the way you are.”

Stiles pouts even as he’s letting Derek slip off his shirt and squirming uncomfortably where he’s sitting.

Derek runs a hand along Stiles’ bare arm, lets it trail up and across his chest to his heart, rests over it for a moment. He’s seen Stiles naked before—Stiles drunkenly stumbling across his bedroom and stripping off in front of him; around swimming pools; once, awkwardly, when Stiles was in the shower for so long Derek thought he’d drowned in there and gone looking for him—but this is different. Touching Stiles for the first time like this, feeling his heart racing beneath Derek’s fingers, watching his chest rise and fall, it’s so much. Derek’s never been in love, really, truly; and as terrifying as it is, as crazy as it is that he’s fallen in love with the crown prince of his country, it’s also incredible. He is _amazed_.

“You thinkin’ romantic stuff over there?” Stiles moves to cover Derek’s hand with his own, and Derek laughs, nods.

“Yeah, I was.”

“We’re supposed to have done all that on the dates, dude.”

“So? I’m still thinking it, now,” Derek lets his free hand slide up Stiles’ thigh, grins when Stiles shudders, rocks down into him. “We can do both.”

“Both is good,” Stiles murmurs, ducking to kiss him again.

Now they’re both shirtless, everything feels more intense, Derek’s got so much skin to touch, so many sensations to take in as they begin shamelessly grinding into one another. Derek’s never felt quite so needy to be kissing someone before, never wanted someone the way he wants Stiles, never been so desperate to have someone’s hands on him as much as he wants Stiles’. Stiles runs a hand through the hair on his chest, nails scraping delicately against skin before he does it a little harder when Derek keens, throws his head back.

“Like that?” Stiles asks.

“Anything,” Derek replies thoughtlessly, “I just want you to touch me.”

“Well, that I have no problem with,” Stiles whispers, eyes fixed on Derek’s stomach as he trails his fingers there, watches the muscles jump beneath them. Derek can’t help the jerk of his hips, dick pressing up against Stiles’ ass, separated only by their damn pants. He’s so ready to _be_ with Stiles, to fuck him senseless and have Stiles fuck him.

“Fuck,” he blurts out. “Fuck, _Stiles_.”

Stiles laughs, “If we get there.”

Stiles rubs a thumb over Derek’s nipple, catching him by surprise and he groans loudly. Stiles grins, lowers his head to lick the path his thumb travelled. He’s cautious about it, more curious than sure, but Derek feels more turned on than he’s ever been in his life as he watches Stiles’ head move. It feels as if there’s a live wire attached to where Stiles is tonguing at his nipple and he clutches Stiles’ hair, can’t help but push into it. Stiles trails his tongue along Derek’s chest, breaks off to kiss the centre of his chest.

Derek’s hands have moved to grip Stiles’ ass, finally able to appreciate it the way he wants to, needs to. He slides his fingers under the elastic of Stiles’ briefs and—

“Wait!” Stiles sits up between Derek’s legs and Derek freezes.

“Uh, you okay? You need some water—or do you wanna sto—”

“Would you quit asking that?” Stiles claps a hand over his mouth, glares at him. “I want to have sex with you, _Christ_ , anyone would think _you_ didn’t! Wait, _do_ you?”

“Can’t you tell?” Derek pushes his hips up just to remind Stiles feel how hard he is underneath him.

Stiles groans, “Alright, that’s—that’s cool.”

“Then why did you stop?” Derek complains.

“Oh, now _you’re_ the impatient one? After _all_ your talk _all_ night about not needing to have sex and waiting and—”

“I was trying to be nice!”

“You’ve never been nice!”

Derek sighs, drops his head back on the couch, “I can’t win.”

“And, _I_ just wanted to ask if you wanted to move this into the bedroom so we didn’t have to move again!”

“Oh,” Derek sits up a little, “Yeah,” he manages hoarsely, “Yeah.”

“Awesome,” Stiles staggers up, smirking when Derek drags his eyes from the sizeable bulge in his pants and meets his eye. “Come on, get that fine ass in gear!” Stiles shucks off his pants and throws them at Derek’s head, laughing gleefully as he darts across the apartment. “Your bedroom through here?”

Derek tosses the pants aside, stalks after him as he removes his jeans. He catches up when Stiles gets distracted looking at the one poster Derek owns (Reservoir Dogs; Laura brought it for him when he moved in and he’s never bothered to take it down, or tell her he prefers Jackie Brown) and wraps his arms around Stiles, picking him up and tackling him to the bed.

Stiles’ laughter is loud and enticing in the darkness of the bedroom, and he cups Derek’s face, kisses him as they sink into the sheets.

“Show off,” he mutters, looks down to where their legs are tangled. “You took them off? I was supposed to do that!”

“I can take off my own clothes, Stiles, unlike some people.”

“Hey! It’s not like I insisted on having people hover around trying to dress me until I was fifteen.”

“I know,” Derek pretends to pout, “Such a hard life.”

“I’m going to ignore that in favor of saying _speaking of hard_ ,” Stiles pushes his hand down between them and into Derek’s underwear, wrapping his fingers around Derek’s cock.

Derek sucks in a breath between his teeth, rocking into Stiles’ hand immediately.

“Feels good,” Stiles says almost conversationally, but for the hitch in his voice.

“Thanks,” Derek laughs, “I’m glad to—oh, do that again,” he blurts out as Stiles begins to pump his hand around his length. Stiles presses in to kiss Derek deeply as he tightens his grip, every movement of his fingers sending tremors of pleasure coursing through Derek’s veins.

Derek doesn’t try to say anything else clever, focuses on the heat of Stiles’ hand, chasing the taste of him with his tongue, his skin slicked with sweat against Derek’s. Stiles is trying out different techniques with jerking him off, faster, slower, harder, and Derek’s head is spinning with each new sensation.

“Get out of your head,” he instructs, “It all feels good.”

“But, I just want—”

Derek rolls them over, stretching out on top of Stiles and kisses him hard. Stiles stops trying to talk, lets Derek press his tongue against his and follows his lead, hands slipping up to grip at Derek’s shoulders. Derek reaches down impatiently to tug off his underwear, and then—with surprisingly shaky hands—Stiles’.

“Oh man,” Stiles hides his face, making Derek laugh. He looks down at Stiles’ dick; hard and leaking as it strains against his stomach; it makes Derek’s insides flips excitedly.

“I mean, I know it’s a normal size—because I checked once—and I know it’s like… everyone has them, well, guys born with them have them and some people opt to get them and  you know, figure of speech with everyone because most chicks don’t, but—”

“Stiles,” Derek cuts him off, runs his thumb along the underside of Stiles’ dick in a way that makes him shiver, arch towards Derek. “Just relax,” Derek tells him.

“Hmmff, easy for you to say when you’ve seen a bunch; they’re probably boring to you, now.”

“And, yet, here I am, not bored,” Derek puts his hands on Stiles’ hips, fixes him with a look. “Now, _relax_ and let me blow you.”

“Wow, such _sweet_ talk, and I was worried about my dirty talk,” Stiles huffs. But, his complaints die off as Derek slides down the bed and takes him into his mouth. Stiles’ hands fly up to scramble at the headboard as he clearly tries not to thrust right up into Derek’s mouth, and Derek reaches up, tugs at his elbows.

“You can touch me, you know,” Derek grins wickedly, “And, feel free to be loud; I want to hear it.”

“I might sound stupid, like pornographically stupid.”

“I don’t think I’ll have a problem with that,” Derek murmurs, holding his gaze as he moves back down to suck on the head of Stiles’ cock.

“Oh fuck, _Derek_ , shit shit, _shit_ ,” Stiles groans, eyes fixed on where his dick’s slipping further into Derek’s mouth. Derek swirls his tongue around the head, then presses forward to take as much of him as he can in. He’s determined to make this good for Stiles, to see him fall apart in a way that Derek (and hopefully only Derek) will ever witness. It’s taking everything he can not to rut against the mattress to relieve himself at the same time; he’s not normally one for enjoying giving head, but with the noises Stiles is making (he was right, they _do_ sound pornographic, but in the best damn way) and the fact that this is _Stiles_ he’s blowing, it’s keeping him harder than he’s ever been.

“You feel incredible; you _look_ incredible, I mean, it’s ridiculous, Jesus, your mouth! I’d say someone should start up a church for you, but I’m gonna be the only dude in the congregation so, no one else would know, but man, I’m seeing god here, I swear.” Stiles is rambling, hips tipping forward into Derek whenever he forgets himself. At one point, he runs a hand against Derek’s cheek, presses against where his cock is and it feels at once both incredibly dirty and intimate. Stiles must think so, too, as he bucks off the bed, thrusting into Derek’s mouth wildly.

Derek pulls off to take a breath, smirks at Stiles, “You’ve lost your inhibitions then?”

“Fuck inhibitions, I’m newly born,” Stiles runs a hand along Derek’s shoulder. “You’re totally my new god.”

“I’m reminding you you said that in the morning.”

“If it comes with a blow job like this again, I’ll gladly take the ribbing.”

Derek rolls his eyes fondly, ducks back down to keep sucking Stiles off.

At some point Stiles’ hands find their way into his hair, and Derek’s more than okay with the almost desperate tugs he’s giving it. Stiles is lost in pleasure, feet hooked around Derek’s neck one moment, and dug hard into the bed the next. It completely delights Derek he’s as loud and fidgety when having sex as he is everywhere else; it’s so Stiles.

“I’m gonna—” Stiles nudges Derek’s shoulder with his heel, “Dude, I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” Derek murmurs, pausing to kiss Stiles’ inner thigh, bites quickly at the flesh and then licks over it as Stiles groans, curses him loudly. “I want you to,” Derek continues, gets a hand around Stiles as he mouths messily at the length of his dick.

Stiles’ back arcs high off the mattress as he comes hard, shouting Derek’s name as he comes down Derek’s throat.

Derek sits back to watch him, idly running his hands up and down Stiles’ legs, smiling dopily at the dazed look on Stiles’ face.

“You good?”

“So good,” Stiles slurs, curls a hand around Derek’s wrist and pulls him on top of him. “Gonna name a country after you.”

“You don’t have that sort of power, besides, how would you explain your reasoning to your father.”

Stiles wrinkles up his nose at him, “Don’t bring him into this, now.”

“You’re right,” Derek agrees, trying not to rock against Stiles’ hip while he’s still no doubt a little sensitive.

“You’re so amenable in bed,” Stiles beams up at him, “Agreeing with me, giving me the best orgasm of my life.”

“Was only our first try, too,” Derek reminds him.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, “Did you uh, did you wanna do something about that?” he reaches down again to pet Derek’s cock. “You feelin’ lonely, dude, need a lil loving?”

“If you seriously, _seriously_ , start talking to my dick, I’m leaving and never coming back.”

Stiles bursts into peals of laughter, wincing when as he moves the drying come Derek missed chafes between them, “Ugh, oh, so much to concentrate on with sex; this shit is complicated and _messy_.”

“’S’good,” Derek murmurs huskily, runs his thumb through the left over come and sucks it into his mouth, his eyes on Stiles. Stiles drops heavily back onto the pillows, makes an indescribable noise.

“You are fucking… god, _fuck me_.”

Derek stops, arches an eyebrow, “You—yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles wiggles free from underneath Derek, shoves up the pillows to sit back and drops his legs wide. “I mean,” he cocks an eyebrow back at Derek, “If you were feeling up to it. I hear giving a blow job can be kind of tiring.”

“Asshole,” Derek smacks one of his knees gently, trying not to stare, to fucking _preen_ at having Stiles in his bed like this, sated and happy and spread out for Derek.

“Yeah, yeah, you love me,” Stiles throws his arm towards Derek’s bedside cabinet. “You got lube in here?”

“Probably not the fancy brand they design for you royals,” Derek snarks teasingly. Stiles kicks him and Derek catches his ankle, waves his leg in the air. “Was that smart?”

“I dunno,” Stiles gives him a lewd look as he wiggles around, widening his legs further, “It’s kind of helping get the _process_ started.”

“And to think you were such a nervous, blushing virgin two hours ago,” Derek deadpans.

“Hey, I’m getting into the whole naked thing, ‘specially with you. You look smokin’ all naked and towering over me.”

“I’m not towering,” Derek huffs, “I’m trying to find—” he yanks half a tube of lube from the back of his drawer, waves it at Stiles triumphantly, “ _This_.”

Stiles tips his head to one side, smiling at him fondly.

“What,” Derek falters, lowers his hand.

“Nothin’ it’s just for a second you looked super young and excited.”

“I’m not that old,” Derek hits him lightly with the tube, shuffles over to lie next to him, “But, I am excited.”

“I know right?” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows, “Gonna get some.”

Derek snorts, coating his fingers with lube as he does so, “Your dirty talk improves with every passing minute.”

“Oh, shut up and put your dick in me.”

“Sexy.”

“Your long, hard dick?”

Derek considers the new sentence, “I mean, it’s true.”

Stiles laughs, leans in to bite at his ear lobe, kiss beneath his ear, “Just thinking about you fucking me is getting my dick hard again.”

“Better,” Derek manages in a strangled tone, shifts to kiss him. Stiles responds immediately, pushes Derek’s hand down between his legs and back to where they can both stretch him, together.

*

There’s sweat in Derek’s eyes, the sheets have been shoved to the end of the bed, and he’s three fingers deep in Stiles. Stiles is fucking writhing beneath him, wanton and pliant in a way that Derek fucking loves, can’t help but feel an odd surge of possessiveness as he looks down at him. He doesn’t want anyone else to ever see Stiles like this, has always felt so deeply protective of him and now it’s magnified, he can’t bear the idea of someone hurting Stiles, or touching him like Derek is fortuitous enough to.  

“I lose you?” Stiles pants, tweaking Derek’s nipple and making him startle.

“I’m right here,” Derek murmurs, kisses him hard and fast. “You okay?”

“I feel like I might explode,” Stiles tells him lightly, pushing back against Derek’s fingers. “But, in the good way? Like the best way. You should definitely…” he hesitates and Derek stills to look at him. Stiles sighs loudly, glares at the ceiling, “You should, you know—”

“Put my dick in you,” Derek provides drily.

“I was gonna say make love to me—”

“Was it giving you an actual aneurism.”

“Fucker, I was just trying to use your language for once! You’re the one that went on about expressions of emotions, earlier.”

Derek smiles, can’t help but lean in and kiss Stiles, brush their noses together.

“Yep, that’s what it is. Suck it up and deal.”

“Oh, I’ll suck it—”

“Nope,” Derek cups his jaw with one hand to kiss him again, frees his other hand and lines himself up. “No more puns, no more bitching, just, be with me, here, now.”

“Jesus, you’re so sexy when you’re getting bossy and emotional; I _love you_.” Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist, encouraging him to move forward.

Derek kisses him blindly, hand still holding his face as he pushes in, connecting them in every way they can be.

Stiles punches out a surprised sound, hand flying up to cover Derek’s, squeezing at his fingers.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “It’s just—so much.”

“I can wait—” Derek’s already resisting the urge to plough right into the tight, incredible heat of Stiles, but he’d rather chop off his own dick than hurt him on his first damn time.

“No! I mean,” Stiles swallows, taps at Derek’s fingers, still curled around his jaw, “With us. This is it, you know? You’re it. This is… awesome and big— and not in that way, although actually in that way, too—but I mean, this, us. It’s big,” he adds finally in a quiet voice.

Derek feels himself melt into Stiles, crushes their mouths together in a way to express that he feels the same.

After a few intense moments, Stiles relaxes, throws both arms around Derek’s shoulders and grins at him.

“Okay, I’m over the big I love you and your magic dick thing, make me scream.”

Derek laughs, but pushes in until he’s flush with Stiles’ ass, “Slowly,” he promises.

“No, _hard_ ,” Stiles insists as Derek rolls into him again, both of them groaning.

“Christ,” Derek huffs, rests up on his elbows as he pulls out and slams back in.

“Oh, oh,” Stiles’ face cracks into a grin, and he reaches down to grab Derek’s ass, urging him on. “Yeah, that’s good, knew you had it in you.”

Derek nips at his shoulder as a retort, looks down between them to where his cock’s disappearing into Stiles, joining them together.

Stiles is pushing back into him, hands still encouraging Derek as they fuck in earnest. The headboard (old and not cut out for the two of them shoving up against it) clatters into the wall and Stiles cackles with laughter.

His hair is stuck to his forehead, his face shining with sweat and he’s breathless, but he’s the most beautiful Derek’s ever seen him. He bends to kiss him again, changing the angle of his thrusts and making Stiles moan against his lips. Derek’s overwhelmed with it all, heart racing as he pounds into Stiles, still trying to touch him as much as he can, savor every moment.

“You feel so good,” he mumbles, “Feels so good fucking you—knew it would—wanted to, every day—”

“Ha! I knew—oh, _god_ —knew it!”

Stiles scrapes his nails up Derek’s back and it makes him jolt into Stiles harder, chasing after the pleasure that feels like it’s never going to stop building. His heels are digging into Derek’s back, urging him on, no longer worried or inhibited about any of his previous hang ups.

(Not that Derek ever thought he needed to have concerns, he knew Stiles would be amazing, and he was right).

Derek takes Stiles’ cock in hand, jerks him off quickly and almost ruthlessly as he fucks into him relentlessly. Stiles is letting out a litany of curses, praises, a tumble of words and Derek’s name over and over as he clings to Derek. They kiss again, and Stiles pulls away to bite at Derek’s bottom lip, soothe his tongue over the sting.

“You gonna come again?”

“Uh huh.”

“Soon?”

“You gettin’ tired?”

Derek laughs breathlessly, “I want to make sure you’re at least on the right path, asshole.”

“I know, I know, equal partnership,” Stiles grins when Derek scowls at him, and then his expression falls into one of total pleasure as Derek twists his hips, nails his prostate. “Christ.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, keep—doing—that—duuuuude,” Stiles joins his hand with Derek’s and speeds up their rhythm, bucking into him, legs squeezing tight around him until he throws his head back, yells Derek’s name.

Derek pulls out of him before he can get over sensitive, starts jerking himself off quickly, eyes never leaving Stiles’.

“’Mma help in a sec,” Stiles mumbles.

“Just stay right there,” Derek groans out, feels his own orgasm shoot through him as he comes all over Stiles’ stomach.

He manages to fall to the side of Stiles, limbs tingling pleasantly and hips still twitching through the aftershocks.

Beside him, Stiles laughs, runs a hand up his back, “You all worn out?”

“Yep, done for at least an hour,” Derek mumbles into the sheet (the pillows are halfway down the bed, who knows how they got there).

“Well, it better just be an hour because I definitely want you to ride me, later, or like, take you from behind,” Stiles taps his chin, “Which sounds more regal?”

Derek cuffs him around the head, uses his hand to pull Stiles in close.

“I’m all sweaty,” Stiles warns.

“Good,” Derek breathes him in, lets his hands trail all over Stiles’ body. “You okay?”

“Are you kidding? Was that rhetorical?”

“Did it sound rhetorical?”

“I never know with you.”

“It wasn’t, and don’t give me cheek or you can try out riding your own hand on the couch.”

“You would be surprised how flexible I can get with that.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised about your flexibility at all,” Derek flashes him a grin and Stiles crows.

“You made a sex joke, oh my god, high five!”

Derek huffs a laugh, lifts his hand to slap Stiles’ expectant palm. Stiles grimaces when their hands stick a little.

“We should shower.”

“Soon,” Derek agrees, but tugs at Stiles’ arm to get him to lie down again, “But, not yet.”

“You just gonna bask in the afterglow of our awesome, but also gross, sex?”

“Yep.”

“Alright,” Stiles wiggles around in his familiar way, settles with his arm across Derek’s waist and kisses his shoulder. “You okay with being the little spoon.”

“I am.”

“Cos, I figured with you being my ex bodyguard you’d insist with having your back to the door.”

“Nope, gonna let any intruders take you first, steal your crown.”

“You are a sleepy, cute after sex kinda dude, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I think I’m a talker.”

“You’re always a talker.”

“It’s nice to know that hasn’t changed, now I’m no longer a virgin.”

“You’re still the same person.”

“Of course, except, you know, for the change in religion, to you.”

Derek snorts, turns in Stiles’ arms and kisses him, “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you love me and I’m your prince, so, sucker, you have to at least pretend to respect me. And, that I talk sense.”

“I can’t make any promises; you said you liked that I kept it real.”

“Yeah, but not too real, I do still enjoy smoke being blown up my ass, sometimes.”

“I’ll _eat_ your ass, later.”

“Oh my god, _two_ sex puns? Derek Hale, I do believe _you_ are the more changed man from having sex with _me_ ; that is my gift to the world! Or, at least, to just you if that possessive arm twitch has anything to say about it; I’m your _life changing_ sex!”

Derek hums heavily, nuzzles into Stiles’ neck and decides he’s maybe the happiest he’s ever been in his life.

“Y’changed my life already, dumbass.”

“Well,” Stiles is quiet for a moment, running his finger gently up and down Derek’s arm before he kisses the closest patch of skin, “I guess I’ve done it twice…. The next time’ll be when you have to have a fancy name given to you and a crown fitted.”

Derek’s eyes fly open, “ _What_.”

“Just messing with you,” Stiles pokes at his cheek, curls in close to him, “We can share mine.”

“I’m not wearing your crown.”

“You are, and you will and it’s gonna be awesome and sexy and you’ll be naked and on top of me when we do it, I’ve decided. It is law.”

“You don’t make the laws!”

“I’ll call in a favor; Kira owes me one and she knows all the right people.”

“I would love to see you explain all this to her.”

“Funny thing is I actually would, and you would actually hate it,” Stiles finally seems to settles, winds his legs through Derek’s. “’S’cool I don’t need anyone else knowing anything about us, really. It’s nice that I don’t have to share you, anymore. You’re all mine.”

“Yours,” Derek repeats faintly, drifting off to sleep with Stiles in his arms. “Even if y’are an idiot.”

Stiles pinches him.

**Author's Note:**

> part 2/chapter 2 will be non pg content! closer to the original prompt, which was on tumblr. if you like it you can check out other fics at my tumblr [stileshale](http://stileshale.tumblr.com/tagged/ficcery)


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